


Trapped

by Turtlefriedrice



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Deception, Emotional Rollercoaster, Happy Ending, Impersonation, M/M, Post Explosion, Reaper76 Big Bang, Suicidal Thoughts, omnic au, sombra is sassy, talon puppets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-05 06:45:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 36,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11572566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turtlefriedrice/pseuds/Turtlefriedrice
Summary: Jack was a dead man whose autopsy photos plagued Reapers thoughts. He was more than content on remembering him that way. Until, of course, Reaper stumbled onto the knowledge that Jack had no part in the explosion that brought down both of their lives, let alone control of his own body.





	Trapped

**Author's Note:**

> :P This fic was made for the reaper76 bigbang  
> My delightful artist was kenwave ( http://kennwave.tumblr.com)  
> who made this fic some absolutely stunning artwork please go check it out, like and reblog it.  
> Spam to your friends. Send it out to your family as a post cards. It really deserves to be given tons of love.  
> Also a huge huge HUGE thanks to MyLadyDay for beta reading this whole entire thing in one day you are an absolute beast and you know it.  
> Only you complete me and know what I'm trying to say pre beta. #hoelanguage 
> 
> I hope I tagged everything properly if not please let me know and I'll edit them accordingly. ENJOY !!

His whole being was a never ending chemical reaction, constantly breaking down and rebuilding itself. He couldn’t tell where he was going, which direction he was facing, his conscious being pulled from physical sight to nothing more than just sensation in a never ending tug of war. He willed himself, begged himself to remain shape if even for a moment, but control was something he hadn’t had in what felt like life times.

Gabriel wasn’t sure he could feel anything anymore other than pain. It was loud and overwhelming. It burned all throughout his body, torching all of his sensations before he could even register them. He couldn’t think straight, his thoughts consumed by suffering and pleas  that it all just stopped for one moment. He was struggling, lying to himself through it all that if he could just focus even for a moment, maybe he could fight it off and regain some control. The control hardly ever came though.

His memory was traumatic and distorted and nearly unreachable in these fits of pain. Gabriel couldn’t remember how much time had passed from his last moment of even a split second of control, and he could not tell where his seemingly endless cloud of self had taken him. He was trapped inside his own body, which refused to even be that and he was losing his battle for control as he often did. 

Anger filled his consciousness. This was his body and yet it was not. He had died, but even then he could never finally rest. His fate dictated and toyed with, because why would he ever be allowed to escape in death? The world enjoyed fucking him over too much to let him rest peacefully. His body flourished in causing him absolute suffering and devouring all it came into contact with. It enjoyed its monstrosity. 

A wave pulsed through Gabriel. His body, nothing more than a massive cloud of black electronic nanite particles, shook as the wave surged through him. His face tried to escape it, his shoulder pressing through for a split second. It was no use, his control and stability were too erratic like this. He would only continue to suffer.   

Luck seemingly looked down on him. Another twisted wave coursed through him. His current struggle would be rewarded, only slightly. Out from the smoke that was his essence, Gabriel's fingers began to take shape. The appendages threatened to leave him just as fast, but with sheer luck, they found surface and it was the only contact Gabriel needed to grasp on. It was something he could focus on, something he could channel his whole consciousness towards. A grounding.

To think he’d be so relieved to brush his fingertips across the surface of a table. With great effort his nanites settled into place, the solidity from his hand traveling up his arm. It spread across him, forcing the smoke to cower back and take shape across his chest. His whole upper body did not form, his appearance cut straight across with wisping smoke, but it did travel upward and allow for his facial features to form. 

Most importantly, his eyes. Gabriel’s vision shifted into actually seeing, the knowledge of what was around him no longer coming into his consciousness like code from his particles. He could actually see this way at last, take in the colors, although corrupted. Instead of seeing everything head on, his line of sight was skewed. Something more he had yet to even consider trying to control - the unwanted blessing of too many eyes and other such facial necessities. 

He was lucky if he could gain control enough for a moment to call himself whole, let alone try and focus his nanites to display him as he was meant to look. As if they would listen if he wanted to. They were his captors here, they controlled his body and how he would continue to survive and live. It took everything to even win himself moments of control like this, knowing full well that they would be only temporary. If there was anything he could do, wanted to do, other than being stuck in this endless loop, he did not have a lot of time to do it. Not until he found a way to cope with it all.

Gabriel gripped the table, his hand shaking and refusing to let go. It was the anchor that allowed him to shift out of madness in the first place, and he was not willingly giving it up just yet. His recent memory was coming back to him. This was an older Overwatch safehouse, one unused for some time. Distraught memories of wreckage came to mind. A safe house that would most likely remain unused for even more time. When had he gotten here? Had he purposely meant to travel here?

His mind was still foggy, his body still pained. There were many questions he wanted to ask, and all of the answers were there, but not within reach at the same time. How long had he been struggling to reach this safe house? Gabriel braced himself, holding his own weight up by his arm and the hand he’d moved from the counter's edge to lay flat on its surface. In front of him was a dimly lit keyboard, hovering inches over the counter, and a bright screen projected on the wall above. A dash flickered, followed by a prompt for a password.

Of course he would go here. It wasn’t a standard safehouse and it was a relief in itself to see that it hadn’t been demolished after everything that had unfolded. This safehouse was hooked up to Overwatch security and data files. It was a scapegoat place for officials, should the need for one to ever occur. Gabriel barked a laugh at the irony of that thought, stifling a flurry of coughs and smoke that itched to follow. 

Now he could recall why he came here. Since the explosion, his consciousness and memory were nothing more than scenes weaving in and out about what had occurred. He knew roughly what had happened to him - fuck he could feel it in his very being - and the pleas he’d forcibly pushed away from Angela. Even with his limited control, it was impossible not to have seen bits and pieces of the aftermath of the explosion. Still, there were many blank spaces to be filled, questions to be answered.

Wasting no more time, Gabriel extended his hand to the keyboard, going through every security clearance that crossed his mind. He was emotionally unstable so it was only a matter of time before he lost control again. Each try was unsuccessful. He was running out of options, but realistically he should have known this would happen. Talon was great at hiding and cleaning up its corruptions, why wouldn’t they have put walls in place to hide its own ass?

Rage traveled up his throat like bile, the next option to try already at his fingers. If there was anything as big as Gabriel’s pain, it was his rage. He didn’t have to die, Overwatch didn’t have to fall. His conscious took him back to the night of the explosion, right before the building fell. The one person he’d tried to get through to the most, the biggest betrayal weighing on his heart. Jack Morrison. Strike commander.

Had this been a time long ago, Gabriel might have been sheepishly cocky about knowing the Strike commander's override - to be honest there wasn’t very much he didn’t know about the strike commander at all - but there had never been any real occasion he’d ever needed to use it and expose himself. After all, his override showed him literally the same permissions, but that obviously was no longer in use.

Gabriel’s stomach churned uncomfortably when the computer accepted the password without fault. Jack Morrison’s override still functioned, what could that have meant? Overwatch had fallen, but that son of a bitch had survived and still had the audacity to associate himself with it? With Talon? The thoughts fueled his rage. Immediately, he began with a search on the Strike Commander himself. What he wouldn’t do to find his current location and strangle him.

Multiple articles and documents sprayed across the wall, each one overlapping with another. Each one dropping Gabriel down another peg. The first ones were expected - ones depicting pictures of the Switzerland headquarters ruins and articles detailing what events were confirmed leading up to it. But then pictures flooded in. Jack’s body charred and among the wreckage, under debris, his skin discolored and his blood splattered about. 

Gabriel’s eyes scanned over them in a frantic haze, his emotions not yet connecting the dots just yet. HIs stubbornness refusing to believe. His whole being hated and held nothing but malice for Jack given everything that had happened, but something about the thought of him being dead was completely different. He couldn’t be dead. These pictures couldn’t have signified that, they were nothing more than how they found him. 

Wrong. Autopsy results came flooding in from Jack Morrison’s file. Gabriel watched as they shifted, starting with Jack’s body on the table, to the Y incision down his chest and much more to follow. His hands flew back from the counter, gripping at his head as it exploded into a new overwhelming rush of pain as the truth came down on him. 

A distorted wail escaped him, his body unable to keep himself formed at the sudden rush of emotion. He felt it as his body tore itself apart back into its many particles, refusing to let him weep like he had wanted to. Jack Morrison was dead, and instead of any satisfaction, it hurt more than Gabriel’s own being. All of this could have been avoided, but he wasn’t able to stop it. He couldn’t reach out and save the person who had meant the most to him? Even if his betrayal stung much more?

His particles wrestled in the air with themselves, unable to function properly under the distress. Each one of them seemed to hold a separate memory to berate him in their grouped consciousness. Memories he had shared with Jack, memories before the fall and everything  that came crashing down and lead him to this point. 

Gabriel wasn’t able to save Jack Morrison, and he wasn’t able to prevent the fall of Overwatch, but he would have his revenge. He’d find those responsible and kill them himself, bring it all out to light of day. He’d have his revenge and enjoy it. The world had taken too much from him as it was, but its biggest mistake was to bring him back. Gabriel Reyes was a dead man who didn’t have control in that moment, but he had more than enough time to become a man who would. 

 

\--------------------------------------------                     ----------------------------------------------

  
  


Reaper rolled his shoulders, his body fully rematerializing in the small opening, his shadowed self blending into the dark interior of the building. As suspected, this base was seemingly abandoned and empty. This was the third wing he had wisped through without a single sign of habitation. At least, not for a long time.

Known as one of Talon’s more secret and heavily guarded facilities, it was becoming painfully clear it was anything but. There was an overwhelming eeriness to how still the air lingered. The unending familiarity didn’t help either. Reaper continued to stick to the shadows and explore the halls.

The design of the base was painfully familiar, striking a broken chord for him. He had never been to this place before, yet he could pinpoint where everything of interest would be like it was the back of his hand he was dealing with. The building's design was a carbon copy of so many buildings and facilities in his past, lacking only the Overwatch emblem on its walls. The outcome of dual ownership maybe, reminding him in an infuriating way exactly why he was here. 

Reminding him exactly why he does anything under the guise of Talon at all, actually. 

For answers and information. For revenge. He would have it and he would uncover the whole story about what had happened seven years ago. Starting with what information he could find with Talon and how it infected the infrastructure of Overwatch and the UN itself and any bastard that had a part in it. 

This base in particular, although similar to an Overwatch facility, was not one seized by Talon after the events of the explosion. There wasn’t very much information about the facility and what its contents were or what purpose it served. Normally it wouldn’t so much as pique Reaper’s attention for his goals, but the secrets around it had always kept it a point of interest in his mind. 

For years he had intended to venture here and explore its contents, but hadn’t the chance while playing on his competitor’s field to come and explore.Now  he was here, though. He just knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that this had to be the missing key that could connect everything he knew. It had to be able to answer all of his lingering questions, otherwise he wasn’t sure where else his path of revenge seeking would take him. 

At the moment, Reaper couldn’t even think of a place that needed to be so protected if it held nothing. There were reasons it was punishable to even bring up its existence, why it was nearly cleared off any and all maps. They were hiding or protecting something in here, and he would unearth it. Whatever it was. 

Having fully explored the outer exterior of the building, Reaper traveled inward, stopping to stare down at the choice in front of him. Two doors, wasn’t it always, leading to two separate hallways. Both locked behind keypads and steel closed frames. Not that that was ever a problem for him. At this point it was about which area he felt like exploring first in this never ending scavenger hunt. He approached one of the doors, choosing first the one to his right. He’d disintegrate himself down to his nanites and pass on through like smoke, flying completely undetected.

At least that was the plan before the lights on the keypad flickered rapidly and the buildings intercom system fizzled to life. A voice broke the silence.

“Are you sure about Door B, Gabe? Door A could have a mystery box,” Sombra mused from overhead.

A wave of annoyance washed over Reaper, a noise escaping from behind his mask that matched exactly how he felt. 

“Sombra,” he grit through his teeth. 

As if it weren’t enough that he had to deal with her hijinks when they were contracted together on Talon assignments, but now he had to deal with her here too. Did the self proclaimed world’s greatest hacker have nothing better to do? Unless, of course, this is what she did for Talon when they weren't stationed together. They weren’t exactly chatty to the point where he gave a damn about what she did for Talon elsewhere. 

“Come on, did you really think you could ghost on in here and I wouldn’t notice? I love this place. Chalk full of little Talon secrets.” 

Most of the time when she spoke, Reaper allowed her words to pass by him while he focused on what he prioritized himself, but this time she had his attention. She was practically dangling it in front of his face that she knew why he was here and knew exactly what he would find. Now what else she was up to, that was the question.

“Leave, Sombra,” he said it like an order, but he highly doubted she’d listen. It would be a first if she did.  

Sombra hummed into the com system. “Do you really think that’s a smart move? You see, without me, every Talon agent would be hauling ass to get here.” It had been too convenient that for Talon’s ‘most guarded’ facility, not a single alarm had been set off, even if he could materialize in and out. “That wouldn’t be very fun, now would it?” 

Reaper exhaled heavily. This was just another game for her. Something that she could watch and observe and toy with, a debt she could bring up far later. It wasn’t assistance. If what she said was true, however, she could be some use after all, if she was in control of the security systems and allowed him to explore freely, even if it was under her watch. 

“How much time?” Reaper diverted the conversation, choosing to take her assistance, so similar to former joint operations. In past occasions, her hacking was a powerful asset, but even with her abilities she had limitations when it came to the size of targeted security systems and their combatants. Especially if not physically there to handle it herself. 

“You’ve got like a half hour tops.” The keypads illuminated in the dark once more, each numbered square flickering with its accompanied tone rapidly, before the door Reaper hadn’t chose swung open. Along the floor lights, which had been inactive until that moment, a purple pulse traveled. The Sombra equivalent to a Las Vegas sign. “Who knows, you might find something you like.” 

What exactly Sombra thought she knew about what Reaper would like to find didn’t concern him. Being aware of a time restriction did. He wouldn’t have all night for this, and if Sombra knew something, he wasn’t purposely going to pass on an extended helpful hand. If this ended up being nothing more than a game of cat and mouse however, there would be consequences to pay. The contents he was hoping to find hit too close to home for him to risk playing games. 

This hall wouldn’t have been Reaper’s first choice by far. Going off what he remembered from his previous bases, and the similar layout of this one, this seemed to lead toward the center of the base where its medical and training areas were. His mind wandered until a flash of purple down a connecting hall caught his attention. That way? He wasn’t quite sure what Talon was thinking by intending to hide their secrets at the very center. It was placing the prize in the most obvious place. Then again, he hadn’t thought to go there first, thinking there would surely be nothing. Perhaps it wasn’t completely uneffective after all.

Reaper phased down the hall, spending minimal time glancing over the rooms and offices he passed. If Talon’s hidden secret required medical attention, perhaps the information here was of a more physical variety. An image of Widowmaker came to his mind, along with a few scarce others. He wasn’t naive to the fact Talon held very tightly to its love of torture and manipulation. He wouldn’t be too terribly surprised if this facility actually housed someone rather than information at all. His gut hoped otherwise. He wasn’t here for some rescue mission.

The end of the hall stretched into an opening rather than a room. It was an observation deck of sorts, its back wall made of glass and hanging over top an open training room on the floor below. It was nearly exactly like the one Overwatch and Blackwatch shared many years ago. The resident doctors and engineers would work and peer at the operatives down below as they practiced new techniques or systems. As close to their subjects as they could be to observe safely, given most exercises then were for eventual combat and not exactly minimal recoveries. 

When Reaper approached the glass, the reflection of his mask met him. He tilted it inward, gazing down at the lower floor and its contents. He wasn’t sure why he came here instead of traveling on past it, there wouldn’t exactly be a supercomputer and thousands of scattered documents on the floor of a training room, but a small need to observe its contents fueled his curiosity. Even if it was beyond futile to take a moment and just reminisce in an area such as this from his past. 

Finally, there was an inconsistency that shattered the hallowed feeling of stepping into a memory of his past life. Despite being ran similarly to an Overwatch facility - at least that was the growing suspicion -  an Overwatch training room didn’t consist of a floor littered with wires and powered down devices. The different colored wires traveled up to idle monitors, decorated around a single chamber stationed in the middle of the floor. 

The first thought to Reaper’s mind was something cryogenic, the chamber looking like some kind of pod from a science fiction movie. So this base’s secret was something alive, then? There was a growing disappointment rolling around in his gut as he decided how to proceed. He could continue on, see what exactly it was that they were keeping so guarded, but there was no guarantee it would hold any use for his cause. Perhaps still it wouldn’t be all for naught if he did. 

For as much exploring of the base he’d done thus far, it was blatantly obvious this was the only ‘touched’ part of this facility. The rest of it had a surprising lack of computers as well, and yet here in this small space there were plenty. This room might as well have been branded Sombra’s playground. No wonder she wanted him to travel there.

Reaper ghosted his presence below and in front of the strange chamber. There was a surprising lack of writing on the outside of the container, and at first glance nothing on the monitors. The chamber curved and from the distance he was standing at, only a foot or so away, he couldn’t tell if anything was running inside it. It was far too quiet for that. On closer inspection, he began to question his first guess for what this could’ve held. He couldn’t sense any kind of soul from inside. 

Without giving it a second thought, Reaper tossed one of his shotguns to the side, letting it clatter on the floor forgotten, until it disintegrated back into smoke to rejoin him a moment later. He’d need a free hand if he was just going to crash the party, whatever it was inside, and could always resummon his second weapon if he really needed it. The lack of a soul had him confident he would not have to. Still, he tightened his grip on his remaining weapon and propped his boot on the slanted front of the chamber, just below the door to better situate himself to prepare to rip the damn thing open.

He reached out for its handle, pausing for a moment to give his surroundings one last look over. There was something about this whole situation that just didn’t seem to add up. It left an interesting and indescribable feeling over him, but Reaper shoved it down and away from his thoughts. There was no hesitating here, he didn’t have the time for that. His focus traveled back to the door and the handle. The door was already propped up slightly, unsealed. Would there be anything left to find in here after all or had whatever was inside escaped? Or, alternatively, been taken? 

In one swift motion, Reaper ripped the door open, swinging it outward with a rush of air. The door clattered as it smacked past its hinges, disregarded instantly. However, it wasn’t the only sound that broke the silent suspense of the scene. Reaper’s remaining shotgun fell to the floor carelessly in its own clatter. Everything seemed to stop in that moment. His eyes widened behind his mask and in dull shock he stumbled back away from the chamber. 

It wasn’t possible. Every cell in Reaper’s body yelled in unison. No, it wasn’t true. His eyes, in their distortion, were defective. This whole situation was defective. His whole core seemed to come to a stand still, the ever growing pain he’d tirelessly worked to cope pooling in his gut. Suddenly, it was as if he was sent back several years, when he had forgotten what being solid meant. His stability threatened to crumble back into a mass of uncontrollable nanites as emotion crept up his throat.

Reaper couldn’t stifle the wail that escaped him as he surged forward again, closer to the contents of the chamber in his returning agony. 

In front of him, propped up carelessly in its chamber was a ghost restrained by wires in its makeshift casket. A face from his past that brought everything Reaper had buried deep up to the surface again. An abnormality in the system that should not have been here. Hell it shouldn’t have been within thousands of miles of here and certainly not in the possession of Talon. Reaper clenched his teeth, intaking deeply.

Jack.

Questions flooded Reaper’s mind. Jack fucking Morrison. Former lover, former friend, but also one of the men who had betrayed Reaper deeply. Yet also still held such an importance to him. Even if prior to this moment, those feelings were often completely spiteful.

What was he doing here? How could Talon have his body? It had been years since his death, they would have had to dig up his grave and drag his body out of it themselves to have it here. Jack Morrison had died, Reaper could recall the images of his body crumpled in the wreckage and each detail of every single autopsy photo. So much so, that it felt like they’d been burned into the back of his mind. Which made this situation even worse. It simply didn’t make sense.

There was no possible way he could be here, propped up in this chamber looking exactly the same as the day he died, and the last time Reaper had seen him, before they were both engulfed in flames. Even his body was dressed in the remnants of his Strike Commander uniform, burns and tears embellishing it. He knew for certain that Jack had died, but was this really what they had done with his remains? Sent them off to this place?

Moving without even thinking, Reaper closed in on the capsule, his hand reaching out to touch the ‘corpse’. He curved his taloned fingers at Jack’s neck, just below his chin. It was pointless, he knew, to be checking for a pulse if he could not even sense a soul, but he felt like he needed to. In his life, Jack was a man of countless surprises against logic, maybe, somewhere, a tiny part of him hoped this time could be something of that sort. Even if it meant knocking the hell out of him afterward, which another small part of Reaper longed to do.

There was no response to his touch, no pulse at his fingertips. His body was limp and room temperature at best. There was nothing here but a corpse. The nanites at the surface of Reaper’s arm flickered into smoke, as if caught in an imaginary wind, before surfacing back. This was shocking, yes, but not the place to fall back into total ruins. 

Reaper’s hand moved, his behavior frustrated at the lack of results thus far. He grasped the chin of the body before him, his grip tighter than need be as he lifted it up to get a better look at its face. He turned it, examining it, his face and its mask gradually getting closer. Everything about this corpse screamed familiarity, marks only he knew to look for present on its face. But there was something off about this whole situation still. 

If Talon had brought Jack’s corpse here, it made no sense that there were no signs of decomposition. For fucks sake, it wasn’t even frozen properly, had that been what they were doing, the door had been open and it had been exposed to air for far too long. It had been deceased for years! 

There was an overwhelming feeling of it being the same, but so different. Reaper visited the autopsy photos in his mind willingly and unwillingly enough to know the damage Jack had sustained, and what he had seen at the site of the explosion, against what he had seen in the pictures. Why hadn’t he focused on the inconsistencies before? The scarring of the face and of the body. The autopsy results were mild compared to what they should’ve been. Everything Reaper knew about Jack’s death was slowly creeping into question.

Staring straight forward, Reaper glared at the gashes sliced down Jack’s face. These wounds weren’t natural. There was something strange about the way the skin around them settled, the cuts far too pristine through equal layers of ‘flesh’. Reaper’s thumb ghosted up Jack’s face, settling at the biggest gash in question. He pulled it back, exhaling out as he did. As if he could experience what it would feel like to have his own flesh thumbed back in such a way.

His suspicions were only further confirmed. This wasn’t a wound created like normal injuries on skin. A soft glint of something inside caught his eye, and immediately Reaper forced his hold apart further, no longer gripped at the thought of possibly decimating a corpse. Here, where he was hoping it would be, was an answer to some of his questions. This wasn’t actually Jack at all. 

Metal stared back at Reaper from the inside of the corpse’s injury. He retracted his hand from it quickly in revulsion. Immediately, his attention switched to the rest of the corpse. His thoughts were scattered again, but they were moving quickly. He gripped at the clothing the body wore and ripped at the fabric like it were nothing more than tissue paper. It exposed the chest enough for Reaper to take in the burn marks that crept across the torso and further wounds. More glints of metal flickered from inside them at the exposure.

Without a doubt, he understood now that this was not Jack at all. It was some kind of droid at best. A puppet for Talon. 

Reaper snarled out at this conclusion and cursed at himself internally. Why hadn’t he put the puzzle pieces together before? Had he been too engrossed in petty emotions about Jack’s death to see what obvious inconsistencies there were? Focusing back on his memory, it was becoming startlingly clear that this droid fit the criteria of the Jack he argued and fought with the day of the explosion seven years ago, down to the same uniform and undoubtedly explosion made wounds. But what did that mean for the real Jack Morrison and what he had witnessed in the autopsy photos? Had he died prior to that day and his body planted around to hide the fact Talon had been using a puppet all along? 

Reaper’s snarls only intensified. At what fucking point had his best friend been replaced right in front of him and ceased to exist? When had he stopped paying attention enough so as not to realize that there had been an exact copy of Jack Morrison put into place to do all of Talon’s dirty work. God damn, no wonder it was no use getting through to him. 

He swallowed thickly. This changed a lot of what Reaper thought he understood and had spent many years fueled by. What if everything he thought he knew towards the end, everything he thought he couldn’t get through to Jack and the betrayal he felt so strongly about, was nothing more than Talon’s early work. He’d felt such hatred towards Jack, but now it was possible it wasn’t his doing at all. For all Reaper knew, he’d been the one to have betrayed _ Jack _ . Had Jack Morrison perished far ahead of it all and the most important person in his life failed to even notice his absence? Was everything he thought he knew and understood fabricated?

“Sombra.” His own voice struggled as a low growl all but pulled himself out of his spiraling thoughts. “Sombra!”

One by one, the monitors littering around the room flashed to life, Sombra’s iconic skull symbol flashing on their screens in a vibrant purple. The wires and container hummed as they returned back to life, all computers switching to on to allow her into the space. Not that she hadn’t most likely been watching from cameras hidden who knew where. Reaper wouldn’t have doubted it for a moment. 

“Jeez, Gabe, calm down. Get your panties out of a wad.” Her voice escaped each monitor simultaneously, giving her a presence as if she actually stood in the room beside him. “Didn’t you hate this guy?’

He wouldn’t answer Sombra’s question. He didn’t have an answer for it. Honestly, everything Reaper thought he knew about his own resolve was under fire inside of his own mind. What did he feel in this moment? He was angry, madder than hell, just the same as he had always been since he was forced back into the land of the living and eternal pain. But he was also filled with growing remorse and sorrow for all the things he no longer understood. For Jack. For what this meant.

“Hey. Visiting hours are almost over.” Her inflection was hesitant and unsure as she added to the silence of his response. 

Reaper ignored giving Sombra a rightful reply and conversation. He couldn't care less about time limits. Instead, he reached in around the omnic droid in the chamber, ripping it apart from tangled wires he could now see connected to places on it’s back. 

“Bleed these computers dry. I want every file here.” His voice stabilized without emotion.

“Yeah, yeah.” As if she expected as much.

The droid lifelessly fell forward against Reaper’s chest as his hand moved down the back, removing each and every plug. It took all of his self control not to look down and allow the nostalgia to consume him with memories of having Jack close to him like this, his hair and head close enough to be tucked under his chin. This wasn’t Jack, it was a puppet. An expensive, lifelike to the very touch of flesh and hair, puppet. It was the key to figuring everything out. To honoring the real truth of what happened to Jack Morrison.

Suddenly, plans changed. Reaper’s hand fell to the last few wires connected to the omnic. An alarm, from speakers inside of the chamber, began to blare. Finally some resistance from this shit hole of a facility. 

A colorful string of spanish took over the intercom system. “What are you doing?!” The disbelief in Sombra’s voice was heavy. “Leave that thing! That’s the center of the whole damn system.”

One last jerk was all Reaper needed to completely free the omnic from its confinement. 

“I’m taking it with me,” he replied, draping the body over his shoulder and turning towards the stairs. 

As if he would leave this replica of Jack Morrison in Talon’s hands. Despite the fact that this droid probably replaced the man that held importance to him and more than likely helped kickstart the end of Reaper’s first life, he would not give them the opportunity to use Jack’s image for anything again. Even if they didn’t plan to use his likeness or this droid ever again, he didn’t even want to risk it. Hell, if possible, he’d love to fire the son of a bitch up and beat the shit out of it for his own results. But what if even the droid didn’t realize it wasn’t Jack Morrison? Assuming there was anything to salvage anyway.

“What?” Sombra scoffed in disbelief. “Where are you even going to hide that thing?!”

Reaper continued to ignore her questions as he made his way to the exit, the faint alarm coming to a stop. Sombra knew of this place before and what was inside of it, she should have known the risk of him figuring it out. True, she was most likely under the assumption Reaper would be pleased than knowledge hungry upon this discovery, but it was something she should’ve realized could’ve been a possibility. If she weren’t ready for Reaper to bite off more than she could chew, she shouldn’t have offered her ‘assistance’ in the first place. He’d drag her down with him if need be. She would help him get answers.

“Give me anything pertaining to Jack Morrison, this thing and this place especially. Immediately Sombra.”

Reaper stopped in front of two doors leading outside of the facility. He looked over the keypad, watching as they still lit up in a familiar purple glow. He pressed down on a single key, listening as the doors began to pull themselves open. 

Despite not being happy with the change of plans and what she more than likely hoped to be an interesting show to watch, Reaper had full confidence Sombra could handle the alarm situation and the cover of Talon’s secret puppets disappearance. After all, neither of them were ready to be caught. Both of them had too many personal agendas that relied on the guise of working for Talon. There would be a day to sever that tie, but getting caught snooping where they technically didn’t belong would not be the reason. 

The doors opened enough so that Reaper began to walk through, staying completely materialized to better escort his lifeless passenger.

Before he exited through the doors completely, the intercom system from inside continued to beckon to him. 

“If you want to know about it so bad, why don’t you ask  _ Jack Morrison _ .”  Each word was thick with irritation and sass. 

Reaper immediately came to a halt, turning halfway back towards the inside, as if expecting to see her there to gauge her expression. What exactly was she implying? _ Jack was alive _ ? 

The facility doors slammed in front of his face in an act of real maturity. A comm, located among his internal nanites close to his ear buzzed to life with laughter.

“You really don’t know anything, do you? Really, who's in charge here?” Sombra took a deep breath, recovering from her laughter. “He’s still alive,” she said before taking another slight pause, “if you could call it that.” 

 

\---------------------------------------                              -------------------------------------------

 

They would spend the day together. That was the plan. It wasn’t often that the Strike Commander and the Commander of Blackwatch got corresponding time off, but when they could, they took full advantage of it. If the lingering exhaustion from the night before held truth, they were already off to a great start with much more to follow.

Gabriel gave into consciousness first, stubborn about fighting to return back to sleep. It was a fruitless battle, the light already sneaking through the blinds to shine straight into his eyes. The world did not want Gabriel Reyes to sleep in. However, as per usual, it seemed to avoid shining onto the other man in the bed who contently rested between his arms. At least for the moment, as the light crept up Jack’s face threateningly, highlighting his lips and nose.

That simply wouldn’t do. It was rare, but Gabe was feeling courteous in letting Jack sleep. So he wholeheartedly made his sacrifice, pulling Jack closer to his body so that his face would be out of potential harmful sun wakening rays for now. It was stupid, but what else did he have to do until Jack woke? Gaze at his sleeping face?

Well, that was a no brainer. He did that all the time. Gabriel pressed a chaste kiss to the back of Jack’s neck while he carefully retreated his arm back from under his weight. He used the arm to prop himself up higher, providing himself with the view he cherished so much. The rare sight of a calm and soft sleeping Jack Morrison, his expression drained off of all stress and the tension out of his shoulders. What was the word he was looking for? Peaceful. 

It didn’t last for long, however. A small twitch of Jack’s eyelashes, the undoubted sight of a tiny side glance, prompted Gabriel to grin. So maybe even the Strike Commander wouldn’t be sleeping in today after all. Granted, they were both trained to be early risers whether they liked it or not, and both their sleep schedules were more atrocious than anything else, too much to expect excellent rest, but still. Gabe couldn’t exactly say he’d complain, as much as he’d enjoy the view of a resting Jack for as long as possible, he looked forward to spending the day with him instead. He wasn’t just not going to call him out on his attempts at passing by with fake sleep either. 

Gabriel moved the arm tucked under Jack’s, using its fingers to lightly trace along Jack’s jaw line. He leaned into Jack’s ear, nipping at it affectionately. 

“Mi sol,” he whispered, his voice low and a little dry. The product of a good night’s rest. “You’re not foolin’ me.” 

Jack exhaled deeply under him. Slowly, he moved while still in Gabriel’s space, turning onto his back so that he could meet his glance. Gabriel’s chest warmed, as it often did when Jack’s eyes opened to greet him. He’d never not be immersed by them. The rest of Jack’s image only added to the experience. It was precious really, his uncontrolled bed head that refused to cooperate. His expression was very tired. It made Gabriel’s smile weaken. He was very aware of Jack’s sleeping issues and his stress first hand. 

“I’m up,” he said, his words quickly followed with an even softer, “I’m up.” 

Jack yawned after his response, closing his eyes for a few more seconds before committing to his awareness. He rolled his shoulders against his pillow, getting comfortable before looking back at Gabriel, his own stupid smile beginning to form. “Mornin’.”

Gabriel’s hand rested against Jack’s chest, planting firmer so that he could move and kiss at his lips. He pulled himself up in the bed to rest beside Jack, the arm he’d been using to keep himself up slithering over their pillows, and behind Jack’s neck.

“What shall we do today?” 

“Anything.” Jack’s response was quick and he turned his face towards Gabriel, his expression still tired. He did know more sleep was an acceptable answer, didn’t he? Gabriel wouldn’t actually force him to stay awake.

“Anything?” Gabriel raised his eyebrow. Naturally, paired with the smirk that always seemed to find itself on his face when his brain jumped into the gutter, his mind teased the most obscure options. Only because he did say  _ anything _ . 

Jack huffed. If there was one person who would know how to read Gabriel’s mind perfectly and already know what he was thinking, it would be Jack. His eyebrows furrowed. 

“Not exhausted enough from last night, Gabe?” His voice, although still husky as usual, held a bit of a tease to it. Just the right amount.

Gabriel’s smirk evolved into a toothy, mischievous grin. “We aren't old men yet, Jackie. We got plenty of years to be sore later.” He paused, looking past Jack’s face to the bit of Jack’s hair he twiddled in his fingers on his other side. There were definitely some lighter shades mingled in with the normal golden locks. That didn’t deter him though, he enjoyed them, in more ways than one if it meant teasing Jack as much as he could. “Well, maybe sooner for some of us.” 

He watched with amusement as a blush started on Jack's face, rising from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. When his Strike Commander got flustered, he got flustered and it was frankly one of the best things about him in Gabriel’s opinion.

Jack adjusted how he laid, moving away from Gabriel and freeing his lock of hair. He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to fix it almost self consciously. It was endearing in all the right ways. Jack cleared his throat.

“If that’s what you want to spend your day imagining, go right ahead.” Jack’s eyes traveled down the length of Gabriel’s body. “I had some different ideas in mind myself.”

“Did you?” Gabriel leaned back in and closed the space Jack had tried to use to escape. He hovered over him a bit, licking at his bottom lip and anticipating the moment to strike for more lip action. “I would love to hear what exactly those ideas are.”

Their eyes locked for a while, their lips meeting once more in a strong embrace. Gabriel found himself crawling over on top of Jack while Jack’s arms wrapped around his neck. He just wanted to be closer, wanted to be with Jack, wanted to experience as much as he could. From both sides the feeling was being heavily reciprocated - 

“I can feel my cavities setting in as I watch.” 

Both men stopped in their tracks, Gabriel using his center of gravity to roll back over on his side of the bed. He glanced at their intruder quickly, then back over at Jack just in time to revisit the sight of him flustered. Apparently neither of them were expecting Ana Amari this morning, so their shock was rightfully mutual. As much as they enjoyed the presence of the third part of their close trio, she wasn’t exactly part of this aspect of their life. 

Jack seemed more frazzled than anything, his first response to grab something to cover himself up because he was in nothing more than his boxer’s in front of Ana, but quickly he gave up the action. Gabriel didn’t blame him. Ana had seen them more bare than bare before, nothing she had caught them doing was new to her. Still, it was jarring when unexpected. 

Ana was usually good at giving them their privacy and not interrupting their time alone when they could manage it. As previously stated, being the third to their trio, she knew them quite well and what having a day like today would do to lift their spirits. Which could only mean one thing. Her presence here now, interrupting them, could only mean something was happening she had no choice but to get their assistance on.

“Jack you turned your communications off. I tried contacting you before barging in.” She spoke confidently as ever, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. 

Gabe looked between Jack and Ana. He’d better. Jack had sworn to Gabe when they’d arrange the day that he would. Many of their more recent arguments had revolved around how their time together was never just that. It was Jack, Gabriel and the rest of the world in the storage closets, bunkers and whatever other shelters shacking up could be accomplished in. Neither of them were comfortable with the Overwatch/UN wedge that continuously found its way between them. 

Jack opened his mouth, but Ana spoke again before he could spout any apologies. The both of them knew him too well to know that's exactly what he’d try first. In the end, everything was all strictly business, they all knew that, he didn’t need to apologize for trying to take a moment to himself away from it all for his own privacy.

“The UN has called together an immediate mandatory meeting.” Ana’s tone was appropriately annoyed and her expression reflected it. “They refused to disclose any more information than that to me, but they did stress that it was essential that you, Strike Commander, attend it yourself.” 

When Jack requested his days off, Ana always came to the rescue to cover for Jack as his second in command. Usually, there wasn’t an issue to it, but when it came to orders for the Strike Commander himself, there was little she could do. It was frustrating that they wouldn’t give her any more information, especially since she was the next person in the chain of command, but the UN was never very accommodating. Gabriel could imagine already though how much of a fight Ana must’ve put up about changing that. She knew from witnessing first hand both his and Jack’s fluctuating tensions since the King’s Row stint that they could use some time away from it all together. 

Her eyes met Gabriel's before shifting to Jack quickly. Softly she gave an apology.

Gabriel sighed.

Jack, on the other hand, growled and pushed himself back into his pillows, his hand slowly dragging down his face. It had to be stressful to be the man who had to be everywhere at once, keep face and function on little to nothing. He did have the statue after all, he couldn’t half ass his responsibilities. His hand fell from his face and his eyes looked to Gabriel, pleading.

Gabriel loved those eyes. He could write pages upon pages about how much he loved them. It wasn’t like he didn’t understand. He knew, if given the choice, Jack wouldn’t want to leave and give up their much anticipated plans, but it wasn’t that simple. Jack didn’t have a choice. Poor guy couldn’t even go twelve hours without being pulled somewhere else. Still, he hated that another opportunity for the two of them to just relish in each other’s presence had been stolen yet again. 

Without a doubt, his expression gave away that he was not entirely pleased with it. He had a resting bitch face anyway, hopefully it wasn’t too late to put too much guilt on Jack for what was out of his control. He knew for a fact Jack would take it straight to heart.  He didn’t want to travel down that road today and get angry. They wouldn’t get very far that way. It defeated the whole point of their day together and working to make themselves more available and dedicated to one another. Although, so did Jack leaving for official business.

Gabriel reached out, his hand hovering before petting Jack’s knee. From their flustered toss up when Ana arrived, the limb had found its way closer. 

“Go on, Jackie,” Gabriel said, trying to comfort Jack. It would be okay in the end, that much he was obvious. “It’ll be a raincheck.”

A very long raincheck, considering their conflicting schedules, but a raincheck nonetheless. Who knew exactly the next time they both would be stationed together and get the same time off.  It wasn’t like the UN already frowned down upon two of their important people, both the commanders of Overwatch and Blackwatch, taking the same days off together to begin with. 

Jack moved his hand on top of Gabriel’s and squeezed it with the same reassuring touch before moving to slide out of bed. He made his way over to Ana, who met him at his closet and began to get dressed. Ana began to fill him in on what information she did know about the whole matter.

Gabriel let himself flop back onto his back on the bed, his body going limp. He let Jack and Ana’s words fade into the background, his thoughts becoming his main focus as he stared at the ceiling. The impending question of ‘Now what?’ weighed down on him. He closed his eyes, no longer willing to try and count the lines on the ceiling. Maybe getting more rest wasn’t a bad idea. In the end, even with Jack off back to his work, today was still Gabriel’s day off. It would be a shame to waste it even more, and not taking more advantage of it for himself. 

Content with his own decision, Gabriel made himself more comfortable between the sheets, drifting off while the other two did their own thing. He missed Jack’s goodbye in the end.

 

\-------------------------------                              ---------------------------------

 

Jack woke up feeling the most disoriented he had in his entire life. Everything felt off, nothing felt right. He felt out of sorts - his mind all over the place in beginning sentences and thoughts. Medicated was the best way to describe it. It was a throwback feeling to something similar he’d experienced in SEP once, when his body had gone lax, but his mind had continued to remain active. Almost like sleep paralysis, but more intense. 

He tried opening his eyes, knowing full well he was awake and conscious. He could hear the faint noises of the room down to its air conditioning unit. They remained shut. So he was in a state of paralysis? That was one state he was hoping to never experience again. Still, he understood the best thing to do was wait it out. It always seemed to solve itself on its own.

That is, until his eyes opened. Just like that, after he had decided to wait it out and relax his mind, his eyes took in light. It was bright and uncomfortable, he didn’t know why he felt the need to wake up so fast, but hey whatever worked worked. He felt weird and wanted to get to the bottom of this. Wanted to take something and get back to the rest of his day, back to Gabe. Wait a moment, he had gone to the meeting, hadn’t he?

Jack’s body sat up, his vision shifting. He could tell now he was in the infirmary. Had something happened at the meeting? He couldn’t exactly recall… Not that that was the biggest thing on his mind. He’d sat up rather abruptly just like his eyes had opened. Was this the effect of whatever was happening to him? Maybe Angela had placed him on some sort of medication to make him feel this disoriented? Jack willed himself to glance around, but his body didn’t move.

Why couldn’t he move? Instead of moving his head, he tried with his arms. Nothing. What the hell was this? He tried swallowing. Nothing happened. 

Jack internally had to tell his thoughts to shut up. He needed to focus and get to the bottom of this, whether he was under an influence or not. He focused in on his body and what he could see. He hated to admit it, but after a few moments what he started to noticed, terrified him. Jack wasn’t sure he was able to even feel his body on top of not being able to move it. Words wouldn’t leave his mouth, his eyes wouldn’t even blink. Was this a modified version of Locked in Syndrome? 

A hand, not his own, moved into his field of vision and pressed up against his chest. He didn’t feel the gesture in the slightest, but line of sight followed the gesture. Someone was here with him? Who was it? He desperately needed someone to say something and give him some sort of explanation to this. Something that he could try and understand and stop himself from giving into a hellish pit of thoughts. 

“Are you okay, Jack?” 

Ana. Her voice was such a relief. Jack’s consciousness had many questions to ask her, but they were silent. Without his permission, his head turned toward her. Her face was warped with concern, her lips pulled back into a thin worry line. “You passed out.” Internally, he asks for her help. “You passed out. I thought you said you were getting more sleep?”

His body chuckles softly, sheepishly and he feels it. 

“I’m fine, Ana.” Jack’s voice responds. Its definitely, without a doubt, his voice. “I guess I’m more of a work in progress than I thought.” 

Inside, Jack’s defense began to crumble into panic. He no longer had any control. He could only watch.  

 

\---------------------------------------                               --------------------------------------------

 

“This thing is fucking disgusting,” Sombra whined, flicking her wrist a few times and readjusting the glove she wore. In her own words, she wasn’t touching the thing with her bare hands. So far she’d only grazed her fingers on the omnic for only a moment up close, shooting many glares at Reaper since he rolled it onto the table. 

“Whose idea was it to even store data inside this fake meat sack?” She perked up a little, pointing in Reaper's direction. “You should shoot them.” 

Reaper scoffed. As if he wasn’t looking forward to doing just that. 

After stealing Talon’s precious Jack Morrison puppet, he’d brought it here to a safe house he and Sombra had used before on several occasions for joint operations. It was far away enough from any operational Talon base, yet close enough to drag Sombra away from the safety of her usual hideout. 

Needless to say, it hadn’t been easy. Escorting the omnic here without questions, and unable to use his usual methods was one thing, but Sombra was another situation all on her own. She had no problem getting him files from the computers - some he’d already glanced at and discovered to be information he already knew, but from a different perspective - however when it came to actual contact and working with the body, she was obviously perplexed. 

Sombra had arrived at the safe house first to start up her operations. One back room, out of three, was easily transformed into a computer central, many screens and an obnoxious glow of purple illuminating sparse couches and a television. The front room, where they were located in the present moment, contained nothing more than a fridge, most likely empty of contents, and a long table. The same table Reaper had gone to immediately upon his arrival, rolling the omnic off of his shoulder and letting its back clatter against the wood. It was satisfying enough on its own to hear Sombra’s despair on the location and her plea of ‘We eat here!’.

Steadily, Sombra’s annoyance seemed to shift into mild discomfort. She stood at the head of the table, her hands out in front of her, hesitating at the sides of the omnic’s head. Carefully, she moved forward, her fingers pressing into its cheeks. She cringed outwardly at the touch, letting out a low whine of distaste.

Reaper wasn’t surprised. It was a strange feeling to touch the outside of the Jack Morrison look alike and know that it was fabricated and non-human, yet undoubtedly feeling and looking incredibly realistic. Still, he remained stationed where he stood, leaning against the back wall opposite her from where he observed. His concerns plagued at his mind and traveled to pool at his gut. He knew it wasn’t the real Jack Morrison on the table, but his consciousness loved to torture him otherwise. He had no real attachment to the piece of junk, but somehow still it felt as unsettling and his nerves were on full alert at the sight.   

“It’s so life like.” Being gentle, Sombra shifted Jack’s face back and forth, scanning it carefully with her eyes. “Poor guy. No wonder no one ever noticed.”

Reaper growled under his breath. What she said was a slap to the face, but it wasn’t wrong. One way or another, this puppet had replaced Jack Morrison in front of him and many others who claimed to be close to him, and not one of them so much as caught on to it. He closed his eyes, coaxing himself to breathe evenly out of his nostrils and control the rage that endlessly built up. How could he have not noticed? It was a question he continued to berate himself with. 

Instead, he convinced his thoughts to shift elsewhere, to another statement Sombra had made that clung to his conscious. If he wanted to know, why didn’t he just ask Jack Morrison? He purposely had put off trying to strangle the answers out of her immediately, willing to consider her as the asset that she was to his cause, but its meaning continued to eat away at him.   

“Where is the real Jack Morrison?” 

Sombra lifted her head and shot him a nervous glance, pursing her lips a moment in thought. Then she proceeded to turn her attention back down to the omnic, peeling back the tattered clothing that clinged to its skin. 

“Well,” she began, her voice a little softer as she tiptoed carefully around the conversation. “He’s not dead.” Another pause. “Sort of.”

Autopsy photos flooded Reaper’s mind and he dismissed them, peeling himself away from the wall to hover above the table and the omnic. He understood it was the puppet before him, but his mind projected a different image. Instead, he saw the real Jack Morrison, spread out on the table, open and empty as if he had been transported back in time to the morgue itself. How, with his body mutilated as it had been in that manner, could Jack still be alive?  Reaper’s heart raced anxiously. 

“Where?”

Sombra shrugged. “Around.”

Reaper didn’t hesitate before slamming his hand down on the table, smoke wisping off his form angrily. He didn’t have the patience for this. Sombra flinched, her arms flying away from the omnic. 

“Shit! Okay, okay.” She caught her breath, shaking it off the best she could before returning to explore the body. “Calm down. I know where he is. I just don’t really know how to explain it.”

Reaper’s hand retreated from the table. “Try.”

If Sombra picked up on the waver in his voice, she didn’t show it, which had Reaper internally thankful. It was hard to cover up that this was a sore topic up until now, based on what he had done and how he had acted since finding out about the omnic, but it was important he didn’t let on just how much it was affecting him. 

Sombra inhaled deeply. She looked up and caught his eye and gestured to the omnic and how her hands were placed. “Some help?” Her voice was softer now.

Reaper sighed, taking a step forward and helping her prop the body up on its side, its clothing still draped on the table, leaving its back bare. Several inches below the nape of its neck were ports that traveled down its spine. They were the same ports the wires inside its chamber had used, very small and discreet. The perfect location to be completely hidden by Jack’s former attire. Reaper’s vision couldn’t help but be caught up on the finer details however. There were scars, ones he knew very intimately duplicated here. There really wasn’t much about this omnic that wasn’t exactly the same.

“It’s super fucked up.” Sombra cleared her throat. 

She side stepped to the side of the table and closer into Reaper’s space, but her attention remained on the omnic. She leaned in towards its back, taking her glove off so that she could accurately hack her way inside. Her fingers danced in the air in front of the ports, the flicker of purple graphics traveling out and sparking inside them. 

“Alive? Yes. Free? Not so much.” She scrunched up her nose. “He’s Talon’s little caged bird now.”

Caged? Was she saying that Talon had Jack Morrison imprisoned? Reaper could feel his growing rage returning to him, the instant need to battle Talon straight on and find Jack Morrison and free him intensifying. The only way that would have made sense would be for Talon to have taken Jack at some point as Strike Commander, under everyone’s noses, and had him in their custody since. What did it serve them, to have him in their custody for this long and not have done anything with him like they had with others they abducted? Were they satisfied enough with Widowmaker? 

Reaper lowered his chin. No. That didn’t make sense either, he knew what he saw and he knew in his gut that the autopsy photos were not doctored.

“Impossible. There was an autopsy. Jack Morrison is dead.” 

Sombra let out a huff of laughter, rolling her shoulders back at the same time she rolled her eyes. She shot him a quick glance. “So are you. Not everyone’s lucky enough to come back with their body intact.”

Reaper responded without thinking, wraithing quickly through the remaining space between them and stopping close to her face. His shot gun had reappeared in his grasp, it’s barrel upturned and tucked under her chin. It was idiotic to consider Sombra didn’t know everything she could absolutely find about him, especially when she made a point to use his abandoned name often, but consequently it was the quickest way to establish such a strong reaction from Reaper. His business was his business alone, and he didn’t need nor wish to hear it thrown back at him from her mouth. Especially when she didn’t understand anything. His life, Jack Morrison and the fall. Everything - it was more than any data she could’ve read in files. It was the bare minimum of the story.

Sombra wasn’t going to stand by and let him bully her. Nearly instantaneous, as if expecting it after her jab, she moved out of his grasp. Her image pixelated away and reappeared on the opposite side of the table, her expression twisted. She was shaken none the less, her hand moving to rub along her neck and under her chin.

“What the hell!?” she spat. “Why do you care so much about this shit? You sure as hell didn’t give a damn before. Otherwise you’d know where he is! Your ghost ass has probably walked passed him a million times.” She began to curse under her breath, shaking her head in a disbelief. “Why am I even helping you right now?”

Reaper, simmering down, released his shotgun back into his being. His gaze lowered back onto the omnic and searched for answers he knew he wouldn’t find on its surface. He took a step back away from the table and allowed his mind to muse over what she had said. Was the location of Jack Morrison currently really so obvious and he hadn’t realized it? It wasn’t entirely a long stretch to think he was a little more than deeply consumed in his goals and this situation. Maybe his vengeance had him blind.

Upon bringing his attention back to her, it was obvious Sombra wasn’t going to resume any sort of work or assistance until her questions were answered. How much could he say, minimally in a vague reaper-esque fashion, to appease her concerns? He pondered how much she could possibly already know and what it would really mean if he validated any of it or actually attempted discussing his thought process with her. His cowl angled itself back down towards the omnic, Sombra’s eyes following his trail of vision.

She lifted her hand, stopping him from even attempting to explain. 

“Forget it.” Her expression had softened and, despite her earlier feelings she moved, back to where she’d been earlier at the omnic’s back. “My fangirl heart can only handle so much tragedy.” 

She lifted her hand back, pausing at the ports before placing it on the omnic’s arm. She squeezed it tightly.     

Reaper’s head turned back toward her, trying to read her expression. He couldn’t quite tell if she was still choosing to be cryptic, out spite towards him because of his behavior, or if she was attempting to tell him the truth from what she knew. Was this a game? The tone of her voice had changed, giving the vibe of a more serious conversation. Her facial features were soft. Was the truth that upsetting that it even affected her, despite her having no involvement in anything to do with Jack Morrison?  

“Spit it out Sombra.” Reapers growl remained low. 

Sombra bit at her lip, shifting her weight back and forth on her feet. Her hand released the omnic’s arm and her finger traced the back of its neck. 

“They took his mind from him and trapped it inside here.” Her finger stopped its tracing. “Then kept him conscious while they used it.”

She turned to look at him, her eyes focusing back and forth between both eyes of his mask, knowing full well there wouldn’t be any real visible sign of his reaction or understanding. Reaper prefered it that way.

“It sounds unreal, but inside of a functioning omnic, his mind wouldn't take too much space at all. It wouldn’t have any controls or be able to move or anything like that, just watch and listen if hooked up correctly. If I had to guess, that’s why they did it that way, so he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.” 

Sombra crossed her arms, sighing. “His body would’ve been useless at that point without a consciousness, so that gave them the perfect opportunity to fake his death and keep his mind for themselves.” 

Everything seemed to slow to a turtle’s pace for Reaper. He allowed each word to sink in, considered everything she said. None of it seemed to make sense. It sounded so fictitious and improbable. Someone's mind in an Omnic? A human soul? He understood quite well that Talon had a disgusting taste for the fucked up and improbable, but he wasn’t sure he could believe they were capable of that just yet. 

Then again, he was a human brought back only by existing as a million tiny nanomachines. Wasn’t he exactly the thought he was refusing to entertain? Reaper wasn’t sure exactly how he was supposed to feel about any of this anymore. Everything he thought he understood and knew kept getting shattered over and over, and in the worst possible ways. It sickened him to think that they’d replaced Jack Morrison and not one person had caught wind of it, and he had been whisked away, imprisoned somewhere to suffer. He felt sick at the information Jack could have been conscious at the same time - knowing that no one could help him, and that Talon was ruining everything. 

Reaper couldn’t imagine what that would’ve been like. Sure, he’d been through his own personal hell and he was continuing to live it and would continue to live it for a foreseeable future. That didn’t mean it helped him in anyway to understand how that kind of betrayal or isolation would have felt. There was no scale to compare the tragic outcomes of their lives here, but still it pained him most to consider all of this happening to a version of Jack that was helpless to stop it. 

“We work for some pretty fucked up people, Gabe.”

His eyes bore back into Sombra’s. They didn’t often work face to face as much as they did over comm channels, but from her expression and her tone, he wanted to believe this was different than her usual demeanor and that she was telling him the truth. At this point, the joke would have lasted far too long to have any amusement to it. She just didn’t realize what all this meant for him. Didn’t realize how much of his life and what happened seven years ago was up in question. Things were far worse than he could have imagined. 

The information just kept falling into place telling him so, there was no way he could deny the possibility of something different. It made sense even when it didn’t. If Talon had found a way to trap Jack into an omnic and taken control, it would explain how quickly their lives and relationship had become strained. How easily things were overlooked and the worst decisions were made. It explained why there was a body to bury in Jack’s grave and an autopsy report to seal it. It explained the exact replica of Jack he found in an abandoned, yet secure facility. 

“How do you know all of this?” Reaper inquired finally. He could understand Sombra’s ability to uncover details about what they had done and how she knew of this omnic’s existence if she had, but her knowledge seemed so specific. He doubted somewhere there was a file that declared it so clear as day.

Sombra laughed, shooting him a look that begged to ask him if he was seriously asking her such a thing. 

“Really? Come on Gabe, I’m a hacker.” She lifted her hand, moving her fingers and allowing purple data chips and patterns to appear in front of her in the air. “I speak technology.” She tilted her head, gesturing to the omnic. “Jack is not technology. He stands out alot.”

Reaper straightened his posture. “You’ve spoken to him?” 

A hope he wasn’t intending to have crept up his back. He had just considered Jack to be dead, and had no idea his likliness was being used without permission until recently. If Jack’s mind was nothing more than some kind of technology Talon hoped to store away, of course it would have stood out to Sombra. He imagined she would have looked through absolutely anything she could and something like Jack’s consciousness would have shot up like a red flag. Could strings of curse words and vows to singlehandedly take down Talon be processed into code like that? If so, that’s all he could imagine that encounter to be . 

“Not exactly,” Sombra admitted, less enthusiastic about her abilities than before. “I tried sending him cat videos before, but It’s mostly one sided. They can place him in whatever they want, but his mind is locked up tight. No one’s getting in there unless he wants you to. I don’t blame him. Could you imagine what that must be like?”

Her voice trailed off as she moved back to face the omnic. Her abilities already in full swing around her fingers, she resumed her earlier work of trying to pry her way into the ports on the omnic’s back and finding what information she could that it still held. Her brows furrowed in focus. Her eyes never changed and Reaper didn’t understand the process of how she received and went through the data herself, but he imagined it somehow went through her mind for her to be able to understand and see what it held.

Still, his thoughts crept back to her words. She had tried talking to Jack? He was at least that accessible? Earlier she had mentioned he was somewhere obvious that Reaper hadn’t even noticed. Where could that have been? Did that mean he was back inside of another machine, locked away and hidden? He urged his mind to recall any possible droids that could fit the criteria. He wanted to go and find him, try to talk to him himself. He had no earthly idea what he would say or how he would even try, but that didn’t matter. Overall his goal was to find out information and he had, to an extent. If Jack wasn’t willing to share more, the least Reaper could do is free him from Talon. His morals were much more warped than they were in his previous life, but Reaper could not justify letting this stand.

If it was true, of course. He wanted to believe in any scenario that involved Jack’s life being saved and him not actually having been the one at fault for everything that happened, but until he witnessed the truth himself, it was still very hard to stomach. He crushed the hope that had crept up like bile back down inside his mass of nanomachines. 

“Where is he now?” His demeanor changed suddenly and he was back to giving orders.

Sombra’s attention focused back to him. Her brows had pulled into a frown. “You’re not going to try and talk to him, are you?” 

As if that weren’t already blatantly obvious. She sighed once more.

“He thinks you're dead, you know,” she spoke with a sincere note in her voice. 

It made Reaper feel ill. Of course Jack would consider him dead, his death could have very well been one of the last things Jack saw if he were watching from the omnic’s eyes. 

“He’s trapped, but he still knows what happened and when people talk, doesn’t help he’s in the middle of headquarters around everyone. I mean, think about it,” she said with a mirthless chuckle, “if you were Jack Morrison, would you want to talk to  the Reaper?”.

If he were Jack Morrison in that situation, Reaper wasn’t sure he’d want to talk to anyone. He knew damn well the way that would play out, just from how much he used to know Jack. He’d blame himself and welcome the isolation, seeing no other choice but to blame himself after watching everything fall helplessly.

Reaper ignored her comment, regardless if she were right. Still, it was never about Jack accepting his new lifestyle or even knowing what had happened. It was bringing the truth to light and saving a probably innocent man from Talon. After taking one last look at the omnic, he turned to part ways from it. His new destination: Headquarters. 

  
  


        ------------------------------------------                                   -----------------------------------------

 

Sombra bent down, scanning over the object in front of her. Her expression was curious, her head slightly tilted while she lifted her finger to its screen. 

“Boop.” She chuckled to herself, smacking her gum before sending it to the back of her teeth. “Thought I’d find you here.”

Her electronic threads danced out from the tips of her fingertips in a familiar shade of purple, spreading along the contraptions surface in a tight technological hug. It pulsed for a moment, sending information back to her as quickly as it could in many different forms. Her eyes seem to glass over, focusing at an invisible screen only she could see and decipher. Sombra’s eyebrows rose then.

“Wasn’t expecting that,” she murmured under her breath. She’d come here to investigate something in Talon’s back lines that screamed of inconsistencies, and everything about what she was analyzing was exactly as off as she’d thought. It was also, as most people would agree, on the lines of promptly unethical. 

Sombra threw a glance quickly over her shoulder, wasting no time to phase out to invisibly blend into her surroundings as two Talon grunts, in heavy discussion, walked past. Her image returned pixelated at their absence, her attention quickly returning back to her new found interest.

The threads continued to pulse for a few moments longer, until their energy seemed to drain and the information they could grab dwindled. Sombra retreated them slowly, her lips pursing into a small frown.

“Not much of a talker, are you?” Sombra exhaled softly, her demeanor at what she had discovered thus far changing. She stretched herself out and back to standing up comfortably. 

The lens on the face of the contraption shifted, focusing a moment before inevitably returning to its frozen silence. 

“That’s alright,” she nodded as she spoke, her hands fiddling with her glove to readjust it. “I’ll visit again soon,  _ strike commander _ .”  

  
  


\-----------------------------------------                                   -----------------------------------------

Talon headquarters left a bitter taste in Reaper’s mouth. He hated it here, he hated everything about it. The grunts were obnoxious and their self loving Talon propaganda made him sick, even more so after learning how much more of a hold they had on his life than previously thought. The atmosphere of its halls made his nanites flare in anticipation, already pushed to the edge, just waiting for someone to try and stop him from his objective here.

Not that anyone would dare step in front of Reaper. His years of hired service for the organization helped him build quite the reputation, there were very few in Talon’s ranks that would try to pass him or challenge him. Any that tried met their demise fairly quickly, and others took note. Reaper was a wild card to them, one they knew they could only use to their advantage if they allowed him the space he desired. He wanted this place to burn to the ground as they’d burned so many others.

Reaper stepped off the elevator at the third floor, the lowest floor of the facility that wasn’t strictly mess halls, training areas, garages or hangars. Tactical planning rooms, sparse housing and medical rooms decorated this wing. It wasn’t an area Reaper frequented as much as Sombra initially accused, but he had been here before for debriefings, although very rarely, as he was considerably more a player most seen on the field rather than stationed at base at all. He couldn’t recall completely, but he almost swore the internal servers weren’t far off from here either. Which completely explained Sombra’s interest and findings of this floor’s resident guest.

His talons pressed a small device further against his palm, reminding him exactly why he was here. Jack Morrison would be on this floor, the source straight from Sombra’s mouth inside his ear. Reaper’s heart raced uncomfortably at the thought. After all, it felt like a hoax of some sort, given how long he knew the man to be dead. Jack was here. He wasn’t the same, not by a long shot, he was a prisoner and his current appearance or rather ‘location’ was unknown to Reaper, but that would soon change. If everything Reaper had discovered in the last two days held valid truth, he felt he could free Jack at the very least.

Grunts in the hallway purposely kept their heads down as they passed him. They were smart. Reaper was a man with a designated path and he would not be delayed in it. At least, that was the impression he had. Sombra had been directing him up until this point, but in the last ten minutes or so, after telling him the floor he would need to reach, she had gone quiet. Whether or not she was already trying to attempt communications with Jack before Reaper got to him was in the air, but not entirely far fetched as an assumption. 

Still, Sombra had made it clear that without the device in Reaper’s hand, there wouldn’t be too much she could do without being there in person. She could reach out to Jack enough to attempt initiating conversation, but go no further than that. The device itself, as she explained, would help her connect to the actual shell Jack currently resided in and explore freeing its controls and allowing him more freedom than he currently had. It was more than a start, Reaper considered, if his current level of control was just observing as life pass him by. 

Reaper continued moving past more and more rooms, his pace beginning to slow. After accepting the very real possibility of Jack’s fate, his eyes could not help but pass over everything in a room that was accessible through technology. Sombra explained his conscious was a very minimal space inside the original copy cat omnic, so one could only assume that meant it could fit in nearly anything in this facility. The world relied to much on technology and it was a constant sight to see. Was he in an information droid or one of the computers? It was overwhelming to think how many options on this floor could fit the criteria, but even more so to imagine Jack could possibly see him even now. He wouldn’t know who Reaper really was, but the thought was still jarring in its own way. A very faint part of Reaper, although extremely foolish, didn’t want to fail him again so soon.

“Sombra. Where is he?” Reaper spoke into the comm, searching around once more. 

He eventually came to a complete stop nearing the end of the floor, past the barracks and close to the tactical and debriefing rooms. They weren’t connected directly to the hallway, their entrances instead scattered along the outline of a small open seating area. Couches were back to back and scattered with tables and dusty plastic plants, all facing ever changing screens and news broadcasts. Luckily the space was empty for the moment, most people having filled into their respective rooms to do their damn jobs for once.

Sombra’s voice broke back over the comm systems. “Sorry, Gabe, got distracted. Give me a second to find you.” Her apology didn’t sound the least bit sincere, but Reaper didn’t find it in himself to care. As long as she’d just fucking tell him already where he needed to go. He waited, mentally timing her on how long it would take her to find him on Talon’s security.

“So,” she began after a moment, her voice more relaxed. It was suspicious, she sounded calm, but also insincere. Was everything on her side still going as planned? Talon hadn’t already discovered they’d kidnapped their precious toy and decided to move Jack had they? Sombra cleared her throat.

“Do you remember the really faulty toaster they have in the break room?” 

Reaper’s heart stopped. Had he heard her correctly? Toaster? Talon put the mind of Jack Morrison, former strike commander, inside of a toaster? His head snapped back in the direction he’d just come from, trying to recall if there even was a break room on this floor. Most importantly, he wanted to find the first neck he could to snap. A goddamn toaster!

Sombra couldn’t contain her laughter. “I just saw some idiot stick a fork in it!”

Reapers body visibly shook, unable to contain the rage rising. Smoke began to roll off him heavily, his patience running extremely thin. He snarled her name into her ear.

Sombra’s laughing didn’t die, only lessened. “Oh, please. Calm your tits. Talon is bad, but they aren’t that bad.” Then, to add because she was a safe enough distance away, “Bet he still would’ve sucked at making toast though.”

He weighed his options of teleporting back to the ship that very instant and crushing her soul with his bare hands, before returning back to this floor and his scavenger hunt, but dismissed it. Somehow the thought that she was still a useful asset to his cause echoed into his mind and saved her life yet again, as it had countless times before. 

“The objective.” The words were pulled painfully out of his throat, his choice of words disguising their real goal here just in case any prying eyes were watching. “ _ Please _ .”

“Please? That’s new. Sorry, Gabe. You’re in the right spot, but I feel like from here out you should go alone. Don’t worry, you’ll know when you see him.” At least she attempted to sound reassuring.

Reaper was fuming. What proof was he holding again that convinced him she was useful? He shook it off, the best he could and turned back towards the open space. So he was at least in the right spot, which meant in this area Jack sat away, caged. He rolled his shoulders back and double checked that he had possession of the device in his hand. Reaper entered the room, glancing up and down its walls.

Near the rooms where most objectives and plans were discussed, it wasn’t too out of place that many random things from previous lootings, battles and wars were scattered around like war trophies among the seating choices. Talon’s emblem stained the wall. He halted, turning to the digital screens as they processed and flickered through news networks. It held his attention only momentarily, given he knew most of everything broadcasted before it ever hit the air. Hell, he’d orchestrated enough of it. 

Reaper turned in place, his back to the screens, looking at what the room had to offer on the opposite side. Then his gaze traveled downward. Something familiar caught his eye, although it wasn’t the same as he’d remembered it in his past. He became very still, his nanites desisting in their normal casual swarm around him to press back into his solid form, helping support its foundation. Settled in between two couches was a throwback far into his past. Back to the omnic crisis. 

Reaper willed himself to move forward closer to it and crouch down to observe it more closely. It was a categorized ‘Slicer’ attack omnic. They were annoying fucks, that was for sure, but powerful if left to their own devices. This one was different, though, looking nothing like the ones he was familiar with from his time on the field. Still, he didn’t doubt its authenticity, it's scratched up paint and designated code on the side being plenty of proof on it’s own. This model, however, had undoubtedly been modified. 

The biggest modification being the slicer’s laser, its weapon, being completely uninstalled. In its place someone had equipped it with a singular lens onto the center of its head compartment. The head was propped at an angle upwards, in the direction of the screens behind Reaper,  prompting both his mask and the lights to reflect in its glass. Suspiciously it seemed to be arranged in such a specific way. 

Slicers usually had legs that were jointed, but this one lacked that. Someone had fun dissecting and removing the lower half of its legs, as if to cut off its mobility significantly, along with the hose connected from the back of its two main compartments successfully cutting power to the function. It left the unfortunate device in a tucked position between the two pieces of furniture, much smaller than any of its predecessors from Reapers memories and extremely immobile. 

He didn’t doubt the droid corpse had to be shut off to be sitting out here where people casually rested. Remaining functioning remnants of the omnic crisis were highly discouraged to have around, mostly seen as a large risk and usually frowned upon. The rare droids were too far gone to be saved, even if properly wiped clean. Still, something told Reaper to verify the status of the droid in front of him. An old soldier’s paranoia, perhaps?

Or just a hunch that had his gut twisting in itself, like a hurricane. Reaper reached his free hand out, hovering it inches away from the omnic, his nanites lightly traveling the remaining distance. It was weak and very small, but he could still sense the distinct hum of life. His nanites pressed further, his eyes focusing in. His talons brushed against its metal head, almost affectionately without thought. He could see the very faint signs of life inside. The tattered remains of a soul. Reaper’s mind weighed heavily on doubting his suspicions, but deep inside he knew everything to be real. What they had discovered up until this point wouldn’t have lead him here specifically, if it weren’t real.

There could be any soul inside the droid, this was true, but Reaper felt otherwise. Jack Morrison. It had to be. He'd never seen the man's soul, but there was something about how it radiated through the metal frame and emitted a feeling of home. A familiar feeling he hadn't felt in a long time and just from a soul. Souls weren’t like that for Reaper. Not unless they were already tied in some way.

Reaper didn't know much about how an omnic's body worked, especially an older slicer model such as this one, but he wondered if Jack's consciousness could process that Reaper touched him and was there in front of him. Jack wouldn't recognize him of course, he'd look just like another Talon scum off the television who was here to make his life hell, but still Reaper couldn't help but be curious. Just maybe. He trailed his talon once more, his masked angled into the lens before taking his hand back.

Nothing about the omnic changed, indicating it knew of his presence or if it even could. Reaper hovered over the omnic, reaching around to the back of it to locate somewhere to place Sombra's device. It would help give room to the soul inside, even if minimally, at least until other options could be found. That would take time of course, she had told him, but at least at first it could get to work freeing the omnic from any securities monitoring its presence.

A thin layer of purple spread from behind the omnic, coating it in a pulsing light.  Moments later, Sombra's voice crackled back over their comm system. 

"There you go, Gabe!" Her voice was mildly ecstatic at best, but sarcastic enough to make Reaper irritated. "I felt like you might be able to spot him out." 

His response was only a growl, standing back out and scanning his environment. He didn't want any last minute intruders on the scene to basically watch him shoplift from Talon. He doubted anyone would give an actual shit - what were they going to do? Confront Reaper about taking what he wanted? Live the remaining seconds of their life feeling themselves becoming dried husks? But if word got to the correct people on what exactly he stole, things could go sour fast. Talon might miss their little Jack pet.

Jack. 

The name held such a longing for Reaper, that he couldn't explain. He didn't know his feelings anymore. One moment he thought he understood what he had come to terms with in his mind, the next it was completely different, back to its pattern before. He hated Jack with a passion for the events that had happened and he fed on that anger and let it motivate him into what he was today. To think that Jack, his Jack, the Jack he had loved actually had no part in it and was trapped away in this thing. This device? A fucking robot?

He wanted to talk to him. He wanted to embrace his dysfunctional soul in his hands and shape it whole again. He wanted to know his perspective. Part of him felt like he did know. Only barely and only temporary, but he had once been trapped inside his own void of being unable to properly form and function. The isolation and the feeling of being trapped and devoid of all control. Jack didn't deserve this. 

Reaper's mind fought with itself. On one side, he thought of the robot in front of him as nothing more than a cage to Jack, but the other side, Jack didn't have anything else. This omnic was Jack, this was his body at the current moment. Talon had done this to him, they made him into this and it was unfortunate. Morrison was so much more than a small hunk of metal modified into helplessness. 

"Pisses you off, doesn't it?" Sombra's voice had lowered, the distant sound of her typing on her keyboard picking up on her side of the mic. "Alright, he’s been removed from the grid. Not that I think anyone’s going to notice. They don't perform any maintenance so they were probably betting on him fading away or breaking."

Reaper closed his eyes, exhaling. He wouldn't focus on Talon's intentions right now. If he did that, it could easily result in the slaughter of everyone inside the building. Not that they didn't all deserve it. They licked the shit off the boots of those Reaper hated most and were just as bad by association. Their day would come, but today, while he was overcome by returning emotions, was not that day.

"Sombra," he said, but hesitated after her name. Part of him wanted to thank her, he was putting a lot of responsibility on her when she didn't have to be helping him, but the words did not come. It felt like she knew anyway, without him needing to. His eyes opened, what was left of his brows furrowing behind his mask. 

"Return to the safehouse. See what else you can dig up." 

"What? Are you sure?" Sombra asked, more surprised than he’d heard her. "You don't want a lift?" 

She was currently waiting for the both of them - himself and Jack - to teleport back to their ship. The initial plan had been to take Jack back to the safe house with the puppet omnic and have all their sources of information in one place. Reaper had planned it that way in the beginning, but after finding Jack and verifying enough to please his own standards that it was actually him, the plan changed. He wanted some time alone with Jack. It would be messed up and he wasn't sure what would come of it, but it felt like the most natural progression. After all, Jack had spent the last seven years and more unable to make his own decisions. Reaper wasn't going to force him anywhere anymore. 

"We'll find our own way out." 

Sombra still sounded hesitant on the other end of the line before finally giving in. "If you need anything, just let me know. I have no idea how his consciousness is going to act when it's got control of that thing. Those things weren’t set up to be mind controlled - literally. And vice versa."

Reaper understood what she meant and it wasn’t a reference to the omnic crisis. Putting a living consciousness inside of a robot and expecting the mix to work could be categorized as mad science. Cyborgs existed, of course, but that relied on actual human parts to still exist. Jack had nothing.

He peered back down before crouching. His arms moved back behind the robot, hefting it up into his grip with ease. It was lighter than he expected, more of its modifications obvious to him as he held it. Reaper tucked it under his arm and turned to look around once more. There was a very tiny insignificant satisfaction to know that Jack wouldn’t have to stay here anymore and be passed absentmindedly by scum and watch the world go by. If anything, it shone a tiny bit of hope for Reaper. 

Reaper gave into his second nature, allowing his nanites to rise at his skin and expand. His mass shifted, reverting to its comfortable smoke and taking Jack along with it. The nanites consumed them both and with an image inside of his mind, they moved as one. They teleported down to the floors below, to the HQ’s hangar and garage. More specifically, in the driver's seat of a truck located right at the open doors. It was packed and ready to go somewhere, its significance lost on Reaper. Not that he cared. He just needed something to get them on the move.

He checked on his guest, shifting Jack’s unresponsive omnic shell in his hands before moving to place him in the passenger's seat. He half considered the seat belt, but chose against it on the account of how stupid the thought had been. It was too early for him to be feeling that nurturing for Jack. It was too out of character.

A shout came from outside the truck and Reaper paid it no attention. Apparently, the Talon grunts who had been arming the vehicle and preparing it for its leave were not informed of Reaper’s spur of the moment profession change to driver. He turned to look at them, simultaneously putting it into drive. He glanced at the rear view mirror, watching as the enraged grunt tried to run after his acceleration only to be tackled down by another, flailing his arms in the direction and most likely informing him it was stupid to even try. If he valued his life that was, of course.

Honestly, if it were that important, he could have tried the option of not leaving the keys in the ignition. Still, as Reaper’s foot floored the gas to escape the HQ completely, the roar of air ships taking off ringing in his ears, his eyes didn’t leave the mirror. The scene with the grunt was entertaining at best, but did not hold Reaper’s full attention. He did not miss the unmistakable blue skin of Widowmaker on the floor, faced in the direction. Internally, he challenged her to act on her curiousity and dare follow. He half laughed, his attention moving back to the road ahead. As if she would act on her own curiosity unless Talon specifically asked it of her.

 

\----------------------------------------                                  -----------------------------------------

  
  


Silence jerked Jack from unconsciousness. It was unsettling. When was the last time he’d ever been somewhere where it was actually quiet? Had to have been years at this point. The world around him was loud and constant. By now he had trained himself, some way or another, to tune it out. It wasn’t easy considering his situation - being alone with his thoughts - but he had managed it.

Jack found a way to lock himself away in only his thoughts and memories to escape the noise of the outside world. To escape its existence. It was the only solace he was ever able to find for himself as he’d committed to the long wait until he would finally meet his demise. Hell, it was the only plan of action he had. Without noise however, there was nothing he could consciously escape from. Nothing to purposely ignore and push himself away from. He was becoming aware of everything again.

He didn’t have eyes to open. When his attention came to, the world flickered through the lens of this body, his consciousness struggling to read what information it could process from the function until everything was visible to him. As if he could actually see again, which was cruel considering he couldn’t actually look around and take in the details. 

Wherever Talon had placed him now was dark, his only view straight ahead of him a barely illuminated wall, but what he could only guess was a window and the world at night. What kind of place was this? Did they no longer value him as a break room piece of furniture? Perhaps his day had finally come where he’d been escorted to some backlot storage closet to continue the rest of his days in silence. If that were the case, he would have rather have the noise infested HQ. 

Jack focused on his surroundings as much as he could. After all, anything he could distract himself with was heavensent. There was nothing worse than being stuck inside with his thoughts as long as he had been. His search was proving to be useless. It was just a wall, the paint chipping off in places and untouched in probably a very long time. This place was probably abandoned, as were most areas Talon placed him temporarily as they decided what exactly to do with him. He was quite the precious nicknack that they should honestly, in his opinion, let go.

There were shadows on wall. Their shapes were interesting to Jack. It had, of course, been some time since he had the opportunity to just stare at some shapes and wonder what they could be. It was the highlight of his experience. Something else to think about other than the unfortunate circumstances of his existence. 

As quick as the thought to decipher what the shadows were came, they left, replaced by a sudden pressure Jack couldn’t explain. Suddenly in his mind there lay a growing discomfort. It’s an odd sensation, not one he honestly had had to deal with in quite some time. In fact, he wasn’t entirely positive that was what it was at all. How did he handle this? The pressure spread in an indescribable way. Where it had once appeared in the back of his thoughts, it now shoved its way to the front and made its way known.

If Jack could yell, he would’ve. The discomfort shifted to pain and it wrecked his mind. It was overwhelming, scattering everything and leaving Jack to only consider the worse as he struggled to manage it or press it away. Was this finally the end? Had he been pulled out of his mind’s escape so that his brain could finally die? The image of the wall in front of him mocked him about his circumstances. Here? Instead the corpse of an old discarded omnic?

Exhaustion joined the pain as it dulled, less intensified now as it lingered. One could consider it a fitting end to the disgrace of a Strike Commander Jack Morrison. Was it not a befitting end that he’d end up dying somewhere like this for never acting on what he now knew in hindsight?

The pain continued to fluctuate, his mind trying to recall just how to deal with it. How could he be feeling such a thing when he had no nerves to feel with anymore? A purple haze tinted his line of sight. Alongside the hue another sensation seemed to connect with. 

In all honesty Jack couldn’t even remember what he would call the feeling. Out of place? Smothered? His very being felt heavy and weighed. Before he had just existed, everything playing out in front of him like the worst horror reel, while he couldn’t turn to look away. Now things he hadn’t felt in eight, possibly nine years were returning and his mind could not keep up. He didn’t understand why they were flooding back to him now or what it meant. He just wished that, if it was his demise, it would be more swift. 

The purple in his view darkened and blocked out his vision, doing nothing to prepare him as the worst surge of pain ran deeply through him, into what felt like his whole body. Not in the literal sense, of course.

Jack cringed his way through it. The body encasing him shook mildly, a slight hum coming to life off its surface. He eased away from his cringe, the purple color no longer staining his thoughts. It only took a second for him to readjust and analyze everything that had just happened and how much pain still remained. Hastily, his comfort fell from his list of priorities. Everything about him that could, froze.

His line of sight had changed. Jack willed all his focus toward the new view. Another tremble ran through him and again the view shifted, very meticulously alongside it. Coincidence? If Jack still held a heart, it would have raced, a growing suspicion and anxiety building up inside him. Had he actually… moved himself? He takes a moment, considering this, before taking the chance to will himself to move it once more. 

The connection was choppy and slightly delayed, but his head jerked downward, the vision of the wall flying out of his perspective. Jack’s mind drained of thought. He’d done it. There was no doubt about it. Jack had some level of control, something he’d been missing for such a long time. His lens adjusted then.

His view now was of the broken legs of his body. He can recall the day, while tucked inside, when he watched as they were pulled apart at the joint. There were bitter thoughts, because it wouldn’t have mattered considering he’d never moved them himself, but now he couldn’t help but want to try. Jack had to try, he had to know. He needed to see any and all proof that this was him in control, to convince himself of what he thought would never be and probably would never not feel fragile about. After all, who knew when it would just be taken away again?

While Jack’s line of sight trailed down his legs, jerkily, he started to become more aware of how conscious he was of them. Connected. That was the word that kept coming to mind. With a little effort, he tried to remember how moving appendages even worked. He only knew, from past experiences, how moving his original body worked and could only hope moving one like this would be relatively the same. Something similar to never forgetting how to ride a bike.

The leg to his right began to twitch and he instantly regretted it. The movement caused a jolt of burning pain through him, the strength of it crippling. Still, the leg did indeed move. It lunged forward and his whole body shifted to balancing on a slant. His ‘weight’ shifted. A peculiar feeling to feel once more. To feel himself as something more than thoughts lingering. He was something solid again. 

Jack forced himself to focus and not become overwhelmed. It was hard considering that fuck, this was overwhelming. None of this had ever crossed his mind as a possibility again. If he were able, in a different body, he would have broken down. There were no words to describe how badly he wished he had had this before. How many times he begged whatever god that could have been out there to grant him this, so that he could do anything at all about everything that unfolded. 

For once, Jack wasn’t just the passenger in the back seat anymore, watching as an omnic took his place and ruined his life. He could move and it was of his own accord, his own want. Something he would never take for granted again. He dreamt to remember just what this felt like. 

However, like most things when it came to reality, his excitement was short lived. Yes, he had wanted this before, but it came very ill timed. There was nothing more to stop or warn about. Jack Morrison no longer existed in this world. His desire might have been to feel human and be able to move freely again, but the fact that it could never really happen was obvious. Actually, the mere fact that he was here and able to move around inside this robot was proof of that.

Jack was bitter. Of course the circumstances would be like this. He gained the ability to function once more, but he was still far from being free. It came years too late to begin with and when it came, he was still trapped inside. This was a moving body, but it was again an omnic - it wasn’t Jack. It wasn’t human. Hell, it was hardly a whole omnic body. 

There had been times in the beginning, when he hoped there’d be another option when a day like this came, but he knew when the situation called for it, that option would never be explored. His real body was long decomposed, there was no chance of him returning to that life. He expected that, at some point, if he were to be given anything, it would be like this, in a foreign body where he still could never escape. His mind would still be locked inside and now with these new controls, he was actually connected. One with the machine. There was no turning back now.  

Rather than give him any range of control in the end, they should have just taken him out and gotten rid of him. That’s how Jack felt. Was there really a point to it now? What more did Talon have to gain by toying with him like this? What were they hoping to create or use him for now?

Jack stopped. He didn’t want to go down that road. Practically the last decade of his life was spent down that direction. Things were still not ideal for him, but it was pointless to overlook even the smallest change in his life. It was something still the same. He’d say it a million times so he’d say it again. Did he have anything more he could possibly lose? 

No, he didn’t and despite his efforts, his mind and feelings were too strong. The memories he tried to disassociate himself with still continued to flood back, reminding him of everything that lead him to feel the way he did. Reminded him how useless he really was to stop or do anything.

Jack could recall the memories from his perspective, being there, watching it unfold. Seeing the sight of everyone’s faces at the memorials after the explosion when they marathoned constantly on the video feeds. So many lives lost. When they folded the flags. The explosion in itself and the destruction and wreckage he unwillingly got to view first hand. Gabriel’s pleading expression before the building collapsed inward and buried him away. Ana Amari’s voice the last time he saw her…. Waking up bodiless in a front row seat to watch it all unfold. 

There was literally nothing more Talon could have taken from him. They had succeeded, they won. How were they not already satisfied with that? 

Through struggle, Jack finally managed to find some sort of balance between his two legs. They no longer had any kind of grip or ‘foot’ like attachment which proved to be difficult, but he’d dealt with worse in the past. This was nothing he couldn't adjust to and come to know to be his own. He had little alternative. 

Jack’s head moved smoother than it had before when he pulled it up. His lens turned slightly and adjusted, details around him beginning to focus. Everything becomes easier to take in. He could tell then, being able to gaze around in front of him that he’d been placed on a table in the center of a room. From what he could tell, the place was rundown and abandoned, a thick layer of dust coating mostly everything and the windows boarded up from the inside. If he didn’t know any better, he’d swear there was a feeling of nostalgia to it as well. It reminded him of an ideal spot for a safe house.

He contemplated moving to the edge of the table but opted not to just yet. Instead,he chose to continue looking around the space, making careful movements with his legs to maneuver himself to turn. Jack froze when he turned fully, his lens shifting once more. He wasn’t alone. In the corner, where most shadow was cast, a white mask stared back at him in blank fascination. He actually couldn’t read it, but he couldn’t also imagine it not watching him with some amusement. Jack’s gain was entertainment to them.

Jack recognized that silent mask. Reaper. He’d seen the mercenary countless times on thousands of news reports, heard details of what he’d done all from the holovideo he was previously stationed in front of. He scouted his mind for everything he knew about him besides the fact he was Talon’s favorite gun to hire. Murderer, psychopath, terrorist. Just the top three to come to mind. A plague onto the earth. 

Rage started to burn inside Jack. What sense did it make for him to be here? True, he didn’t know what the hell Talon’s plans were by giving him control of the body they’d trapped him in, but for them to send Reaper seemed completely off. He was a man paid to kill and if they wanted to free Jack like that, there were many easier methods of doing it than sending Reaper to come with his shotguns. 

Unless of course he just wanted to take in the spectacle that was Jack Morrison, struggling in his new form, being forced to live by Talon’s terms. There wasn’t a single doubt in his mind the guy didn’t know who he was inside. He had to be Talon’s biggest joke at this point. Unless he was the one to condemn Jack to this fate. 

The anger consumed Jack and continued to build. He was infuriated about everything and now he could afford to be and to act on it. He knew, logically, there wasn’t a damn thing he could do like this to actually hurt Reaper, but his need to try wouldn’t waver. To his knowledge, Reaper was the embodiment of everything Jack hated and an icon to the organization he hated even more. 

The way Jack lunged was very unfortunate and anticlimactic. His new form betrayed him and he fell, his legs unable to keep up with what his mind demanded of them. They buckled under him and he skidded closer to the edge of the table. Its was humiliating and his fans hummed to life to put up with the sudden strain. He didn’t have any other choice but to try and recover. His lens moved back up to Reaper.

Reaper had moved out from the shadows, peering down at him while he moved, but had now turned away. What, was he disgraced? Was he expecting more out of Jack? That was his own damn fault for assuming anything from him, especially if it had to do with his former position. He was no saint to look up to, he was a failure, there was nothing of value to see here. Reaper could go fuck off. 

“R-” Jack tripped on the sound of his own voice starting to blare from his speaker. It was more of a struggle to get out than he had anticipated, but he continued on while trying to find some balance with his body. “Reaper?” 

It was surreal to hear at least some kind of version of his voice that wasn’t directly in his mind. “Why are you here?” He settled on his legs, finding an awkward off centered balance to sit at the end of the table. If he could have glared with his lens, he would have been drilling a hole straight into the back of Reaper’s skull.  “That’s what they call you, right?”

Reaper turned, peering back down at him and Jack continued. “Why would you do this? What do you have to gain?”

The silence only served to feed the anger. “You’re not getting anything from me, so get it over with!”   

 

                    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   
  


Jack’s voice was different. Deeper than Reaper could remember, modified as if spoken through a speaker, but none the less held the same fierceness that made Reaper’s skin crawl. His chest weighed heavy with nostalgia just at the sound of it. Honestly, he’d never thought he’d hear something like it again in his life, having believed his opportunity was long gone. The autopsy photos had long sealed those desires away. Yet here he was, reunited with something so distorted, but equally beautiful to him at the same time. 

Even though the evidence was abundant up until this point, Reaper still knew there was no doubting the bot in front of him was Jack. To an untrained eye, there was nothing to Jack’s reawakening and his struggles on the table just to function, but Reaper could see everything. The small precise mannerisms, the rage that radiated off the small body the moment he took in his appearance. Everything screamed Jack. 

Jack, despite knowing of Reaper’s reputation, while having to be aware of his own disadvantages, still didn’t give a damn about calling out to him. There wasn’t one, but Reaper could feel the spotlight on him, the same one he always felt under Jack’s gaze. Even if it would be through an old lens, once Reaper turned around, he knew Jack’s presence would be unmistakable.  

“That’s what they call you right?” 

It was a gift in its own right, that Jack would have some remainder of his voice. In all honesty, Reaper had expected something more awkward and robotic, but when it came to technology these days, it would be hard to tell. After all, Reaper’s voice wasn’t nearly the same as it had been before either, but he wasn’t self conscious about it. It was deeper, raspier, no longer the silky smooth voice Jack loved while it whispered sweet nothings in his ear and rolled out seductive Spanish. Would he recognize it instantly, like Reaper recognized his voice, despite their circumstances? Reaper wasn’t sure which outcome he wanted.

Part of him, despite everything, wanted to remain aloof and vague. The other part of him, growing stronger every minute and diminishing any anger that dared peek its head, urged him otherwise. He wanted to turn around and reveal it all. Speak to his real old friend, his lover, to Jack. Take his new shitty hunk of metal body into his grasp and devour it until its joints squealed and just bask in the presence of Jack’s soul while he confided in him about everything and learned all of his truths. 

Reaper wouldn’t. He couldn’t do that. Days of affection such as that were behind him, sentenced away with a verdict of getting him waist deep in this shit to begin with. Even if he knew most of what he had thought was based purely on lies. In the event he even really wanted to do all of this, his body betrayed him. It wouldn’t allow him to move and act on his emotions alone. If that were the case, he’d be up scattered among the cieling of the room in a hot mess and their situation would proceed nowhere. Not to mention Jack needed space most of all. Christ, the man had just awoken from one part of hell into another. An old face he no doubt blamed himself over could spiral things to an undesirable level. 

Reaper turned, looking back down at Jack. His throat grew dry. He was protected by his mask, but still his eyes stared into the lens. Jack was waiting determinedly for him to turn around, propped up awkwardly on his own legs, obviously having struggled to get closer. A Jack level gesture that he would still stand up to his combatant.  

Jack continues. “Why would you do this? What do you have to gain?”

Pain coursed through Reaper’s body at the thought of Jack blaming him for putting him in such a situation. He sincerely hoped everything he did up until this point was in Jack’s best interest based on what he felt he needed to do. What Jack needed from him that he could do for once, rather than fail him again.

Despite knowing his voice was long from the prime it had once been when Jack had heard it last, Reaper foolishly tries to conceal it more, traveling to the lowest range he could manage, letting it burn in his throat in the process. He didn’t care about the pain, but selfishly he began to consider more outcomes if Jack did learn of the truth. Did he know everything his “Gabriel” had done post mortem? Could he live with that?  

“I didn’t do this to you.” Reaper wouldn’t deny he had become a sick bastard, but he would never stoop to this level of torture. Perhaps he still had some morals, after all.

Jack’s body language remained impassive. 

“Then why have you brought me here?” he asked, anger still evident in his voice. 

There was a sickly feeling in the way Reaper remembered just how much he loved and craved to stir up enough irritation in Jack to get him to react similarly. He was no fool,though. Even though Jack’s voice was laced with mechanical feedback, he could tell Jack was pushing himself to keep his tone level. To mask his demand. For a man whose pride was plentiful, it was disheartening to know its remains were most likely nothing more than shreds of their former glory.

“Freedom,” Reaper answered like it’s the easiest question in his life. It was. Even if this Jack had been the one to create all hell to break loose, Reaper was sure he’d still feel the same. He would handle any digressions by his own methods, he wouldn’t stand for Talon interfering with something that settled so closely to him. 

Jack scoffed over his speaker and his determination seems to falter immediately. His head lowered. Sarcastically, he stifled a laugh until it faded off into something softer. “Quit screwing around. Condemning me to this thing is your sick idea of freedom? Making me live my life like this?”

His head snapped up, almost accusingly back at Reaper. “Fuck your freedom. I didn’t ask for it.”

Jack’s words struck a dangerous chord in Reaper. He wasn’t expecting Jack to be grateful by all means, but to out right insult the very idea of his own freedom enraged him. Reaper stood by his choice even if he spoke for Jack. He knew right away the moment he found out Jack was alive and accessible that he would free him. No matter how much Talon had done their damage on Jack, never did the thought cross Reaper’s mind that it wouldn’t be worth it or that he shouldn’t do it. Jack didn’t deserve it, despite whatever shit he was blaming on himself. Still, it was stupid to think he was so blind not to realize the importance of what Reaper chose to do. Wasn’t any option better than remaining how he’d previously been for years? Rotting away until one day perhaps Talon found another way to exploit him? 

“Would you rather I left you to rot inside the a Talon base instead?!” Reaper snapped, a faint misting of himself washing off his shoulders to escape back to the shadows in the corner. 

Jack seemed taken aback. His balance shifted under him and he quickly tried repositioning himself. Reaper willed himself to settle down in the slight pause, to no avail. 

“Why would it matter to you?” Jack's tone changed once more. “Maybe I deserve to.” 

Reaper barked out a bitter laugh. His mind has long given up on focusing on concealing his voice. At this point, that was the least of his concerns. He shook his head, a growl still lingering at his lips. 

“Don’t start down that road with me.”

Jack perked up in his spot, straightening his stance. His lens adjusted inwardly. 

“Who are you?” he asks, edging closer to the edge of the table. Bastard was going to end up toppling over, Reaper just knew it. “Talk to me without the mask.” 

Reaper slowly drifted out of fight or flight. He hadn’t realized when his whole body had tensed. From behind his mask, he continued to peer down at Jack, as if staring at his lack of face would provide him any insight to what he could have been thinking. It was his own fault to try and throw up a disguised voice in hopes Jack wouldn’t pick up on it, but based on how quickly the focus had been thrown back on him alone, it was a safe bet to assume he could hear the similarity. 

Reaper sighed. This was exhausting. He was more tired and malnourished, lacking a big enough feeding recently to put up with dramatic reunions such as this. Or that was the excuse he was telling to himself, as once more like water, his own feelings flowed. 

“Please?”

Jack’s plea tugged at Reaper’s heart strings. It had been so faint and desperate. This was a man who had been locked away from the world and forced to watch it all burn. Reaper could only imagine the suffering Jack endured, trapped inside his own mind for so long. Of course, if Jack was given a glimpse of someone from his past, cruelly dangled in front of him, he would want to take it. 

Reaper didn’t have words for him to explain it, however. Instead, knowing that Jack could see him in his perspective from his angle, he lifted his hand to take hold of the bottom of his mask. With what energy he could spare and still keep his humanoid shape, he moved toward his face to endure its solidarity.  He wasn’t patient enough to hide away his eyes, but he ensured the formation of his nose, lips and chin. Surely that would be enough of a profile for Jack to connect the dots. He lifted his mask no further.

“...Gabriel?” The name was forced roughly through Jack’s throat in choked up disbelief. 

It prompted Gabriel to slip the mask silently back into place, his mood softening. The secret was out. Yes, Jack, it was him. He was here, he wasn’t dead at all. Well, for the most part. He stareed directly ahead, as if there would an expression of distaste waiting for him. Instead, the silence lingered on to the point he wondered if Jack was even still functioning. His body’s hum was conveniently absent. When he returned to gazing down, there was no more attention on him.

Jack laughed very discreetly and sadly to himself. “Impossible.” His head bobbed back and forth, like his focus was searching for something he cannot find, until he looked back up at Gabriel. “I watched him die. You could be another one of Talon’s puppets. How am I supposed to believe this isn’t another one of Talon’s games?”

“You cannot.”

It was true. There was nothing Gabriel could say or show that would even touch the amount of distrust Jack had in the world. He wasn’t sure if there were anyway to combat it, when Jack had reason to question everything, except to perhaps his gut. Or make the most of it the way he wanted to at this point. There was little else to lose either way. Would an operative for Talon using Gabriel’s face still go to the effort as he had? That was up to Jack to decide. Gabriel wasn’t going to plead a case he didn’t feel he needed to. 

A visible tremble ran through Jack’s body and an uneasiness spread over Gabriel. All the same he wished there was something he could say to comfort and ease Jack’s conflicts. Perhaps it was in both their interest if he provided him with space again and  stepped out to give Jack time to process? He half turned, intending to head toward the door before Jack's legs shuffled. He turned back instead, eager to know whether or not Jack’s gut instinct believed in his identity.  

“I’m sorry, Gabe.”

growl sounded from Gabriel’s throat, but it was tame. His heart began to sink. Nothing had him more on edge than Jack’s apologies. He already had an idea what direction they would go, Jack taking it on himself for not being in a position to stop any of the conflict that occurred, but Gabriel was still at odds on his side of things. He wasn’t sure it was entirely warranted. In the end, he had failed Jack all the same. 

“I wasn’t able to stop them. I couldn’t do anything and I just sat by and watched it all happen-”

“There was nothing you could do,” Gabriel cut him off. 

“There could have been. If I could have found a way to reach out and let you know-” Jack attempted to continue on, to no avail. 

“I wouldn’t have noticed. You were taken right in front of me and I didn’t even notice that.” The words were hissed through Gabriel’s teeth. It wasn’t the easiest thing to admit, but he knew how naive and stubborn he’d been before, acting irrationally with his emotions.

Gabriel moved over to the couch adjacent the table and sat down, his legs spread. Leaning to one side, he rested an elbow and his weight on his knee. On the same side his taloned fingers moved to dig at his temple restlessly.   

“I should have known. If anyone would’ve fucking realize it, it should have been me.” He turned his face inward toward his hand, his fingers spreading and his palm resting on the top of his mask. They disappeared under his hood. He hoped Jack could not see the slight tremble to his frame. “I’ve hated you for so long, Jack and it hasn’t even been you.”

Gabriel was livid at himself for knowing how much he hated Jack. Hell, the signs could have been right in his face all along and he would’ve been too consumed to see them. Jack didn’t need to beat himself up over that when Gabriel knew for a fact he would have still failed him somehow in the end. 

Jack lifted himself up and made the difficult trek over to the end of the table within reach. When he settled, the questions return. 

“How did you find me?” he asked. “Did Talon show you?”

Gabriel shook his head. If he hadn’t stumbled upon the puppet body, he wasn't sure he would have ever found out about Jack, a fact that eats at him worse than anything else. 

“I found the body. Refused to believe it at first, hoping it meant you were dead instead of…” His words trailed off, his eyes guilty behind his mask as he moved to look back at Jack. Jack’s attention was off centered and low. He hadn’t meant to sound as brash or unthankful for Jack’s survival and cursed himself internally for screwing it up.

“I didn’t understand it. I had seen your autopsy photos, Jack.” The way he said his name is no more than a murmur. “Didn’t understand how I hadn’t noticed that you had been taken. I should have noticed. We all should have noticed. You didn’t deserve that.” 

Gabriel hesitated whether to continue or not, instead choosing to sit up and observe Jack. He wanted to reach out, trace his talons on Jack’s face once more and hope he could process the comforting gesture, but instead he stomped the whole notion down. Jack raised his head to meet him. 

“King’s row.”

Gabriel lowered his chin, indicating his attention and to prompt Jack to continue.

“It happened a little after King’s row. We were together and I got called away to an emergency UN meeting. When I woke up, it was in that thing and they’d replicated damn near everything about me. Even things I’d never noticed. No one could tell the difference.” 

It took Gabriel by surprise just how far back Jack’s switch occurred. His own memory was foggy when it came to details past the biggest part of the shit storm, but that was a time before he would have even considered Jack to have changed. Just how much more of his life had Talon orchestrated? 

“You remember everything that far back? When it happened?” Gabriel asked.

“I remember everything. That’s all I’ve had.”

They sat in a jointed silence. 

“You were right the whole time.” Jack’s voice started up again in a sullen tone and Gabriel was conflicted whether or not he meant it to sting like reopening a healed wound. He pulled himself off the couch and back to his feet. “About the UN and Talon. Their corruption. Overwatch certainly was doomed to start with.” 

Gabriel had a hard time swallowing that. It was one thing to have lived out the last part of his  life wishing a version of Jack he pleaded with would understand the signs that were laid out for all to see. It was different to hear the real Jack’s voice, his Jack, that he understood and believed him. Knew he had been right all along. So many times he cursed Jack’s name for his stubbornness and unwillingness to consider anything that wasn’t his own agenda. However, the actual truth in a perfect timeline was potentially that the real Jack would have been there for him. He had always seen him as his partner, he should have trusted him to hear him out then. Gabriel should’ve known that one was fake. 

“But not about you,” Gabriel growled out, his thoughts cruel. 

It all left a bitter taste in his mouth and suddenly he wasn’t sure he wanted to continue discussing the event. But trying to orchestrate and map out a conversation with Jack ultimately led to the things that were uncomfortable, but needed to be said. The subject continuously became more personal.  

“Gabriel, I-”

“Don’t.” Gabriel was quick to stop him, picking up instantly on the tone in his voice. It was the same apologetic one he’d used before. 

However, Jack was just as stubborn as he was, unable to let it go when there was something he wanted to say. He let out a noise of frustration before giving it another go. 

“Let me say this while I’m still able to.” Did Jack consider this moment of freedom temporary? Did he expect it to be taken away from him again?

“The only person I blame for not noticing is myself. Talon was too far ahead of the game for any of us to realize in time. The signs were there.” His voice cracked before he could continue speaking. “I thought I’d lost everybody. I listened as they abandoned Ana. I watched you die in front of me. It destroyed me. You don’t know how much I missed you, Gabe. Thought about what I would tell you. I didn’t think I’d ever get to hold or speak to you again and now… Well, even the chance to do half of that is more than I could have asked for.”

Gabriel fought against his body, damning himself at the way it shifted under his clothing. It was alive and feeding off of his emotions, gluttonously wanting to disperse and seek Jack at the source. He’d have wanted to talk to Jack too. To have properly confided in him over everything. To have given him more chances to ‘hold’ him. To sound so relieved just to speak with him beyond the grave. They were an inseparable team in the past, in more ways than one.

Jack paused and his voice returned with renewed vigor. “You have every right to hate me and blame me for the same actions as my double. Asking you to forget everything that occured because it wasn’t me doesn’t excuse that it happened. Making sure I didn’t get compromised was no one's responsibility but my own. That was the objective I failed with and the end result was letting Talon into our home. I’ll accept full responsibility for that.”

It was unsettling to Gabriel to imagine how it must have been for Jack to watch his growing hate intensify. It made him feel guilty due to the previous circumstances. He had loved this Jack wholeheartedly and had in a past life vowed to make sure he’d never see the sides of Gabriel that eventually came to be. Unfortunately, it all came out to play in the grand scheme of things. Now Gabriel was the living embodiment of the version of himself in the beginning he never wanted to expose Jack to - before any of the shit hit the fan. Worst part about it all was he still seethed with anger. 

Then the ball dropped and all of Gabriel's defenses he’d foolishly let relax fortified. 

“What I can’t understand is why you would work for them. After everything they did! What they did to us. You’ve killed for them and their principles. What is there to accomplish from that bloodshed?”

All of Gabriel’s patience in the conversation drained immediately. He clenched his teeth and talons defensively.  “It’ll all work out,” he said, sounding as if the words were being ripped from his throat.

“How?” The disbelief in Jack’s voice was thick. He was treading on thin ice where he really needed to realize he shouldn’t go. “What is your big plan here? Do their dirty work for whatever information you can find and slit every throat on the way? Come on, Gabriel.” 

“Shut up.” Reaper’s voice came out in a snarl, uncontrolled. “Don’t call me that.” 

“Is it really worth stooping to their level to solve the puzzle? Is it not enough at this point to just be alive, Gabe?” Jack asked, persistent. 

Reaper reacted faster than he could think. His talons lashed out and grabbed Jack by the top of his head and, with his entire body weight, he presses down. The sound of metal being crushed against metal did not phase him in the slightest.

“Silence!” Reaper’s yell pressed painfully against his limited vocal range, his words sounding more mechanical than human. “Your definition of alive is warped. Your experience is cowardly, you only know the surface of what you could see. You have no idea what remained after the explosion. You didn’t live it and you weren’t the only one who didn’t leave the wreckage unscathed!” 

Reaper’s nanites acted off their own accord. They stormed furiously, chipping off of his frame in wisps. They traveled up from his midsection, destroying the false illusion of being whole and up the beginning of his arm. In their fury, they stormed and threatened to engulf the two of them, their hunger insatiable and ignored for too long. Reaper’s anger fueled them and encouraged them towards Jack’s soul as the closest target to feed off of. 

Reaper jerked the remainder of his arm back and clutched it to his half formed chest with a wail. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He would not touch that soul. That was the soul he had all intentions of keeping safe. It was his previous life's greatest treasure. It had been his world. Reaper’s mind was a constant whirlwind of thoughts and desires and bloodthirst, but he would not let himself destroy the first glint of light in his life over touchy subjects just because he didn’t want to talk about them. He would be stronger than that. 

Still, his resolve did not comfort his outrage. His motivations were his own and he would not be questioned about them. He didn’t have the luxury of being inside his mind when the worst hit. He was on his own to formulate his next course of action and decide how to tackle the resentment inside him. His revenge was his sole purpose in life that got him to this point. Jack or not, he would have never made it this far without it. Jack or not, he would not be able to continue further without it. 

“If you want to roll over and take it in the ass, that’s your prerogative,” he spat in Jack’s direction. “I won’t be satisfied until they’re all dead.” 

Battling his nanites and by extension himself, Reaper struggled to find balance. The past returned to visit him, his eyes scanning to find what he could to keep himself grounded. To think that there would be relief to brush his fingertips on the surface of a table. His talons dug into the wood with a familiar death grip. Slowly, and in the same rhythm as Reaper’s weighed breathing, his nanites returned and pieced together his body. 

His face and body were angled towards Jack. Close enough that he could touch Jack’s cold surface with his mask. 

Jack remained there, pressed in on himself from the force of Reaper’s grip, in silence. His lens didn’t adjust in any way to indicate he was actually staring at Reaper. Still, Reaper stared into the reflection of his own mask in the lens. This was who he was now. Jack could know of his existence, but he would need to come to accept it. Things were different. Being appreciative of life was no longer an end game option for them.

When Reaper’s breathing shifted to calm from being labored, he pulled back from Jack a few inches. His head did not move, but his eyes searched for signs of life. He hadn’t expected to be so violent towards Jack in his outburst, but at the same time had definitely held himself back. Still, Jack’s new body was fragile and foreign. His mind inside was vulnerable. A mild panic set in. Had he damaged Jack? After pulling himself away with the reminder he was here for him? 

He stared through Jack’s form and at his soul. It still flickered, although quickly like a racing heart. 

Slowly, Jack’s lens retracted. 

“What happened to you?” he asked, his voice the smallest it’d been yet. 

Reaper’s body felt weak and heavy. With a sigh, he released the tension he held and slumped more onto the table, his arms sliding past Jack on opposite sides. 

“Talon, did they-” 

“I died, Jack.” Reaper’s voice was calm and softer. A usually impossible feat with his distortion. “Same as you.”

Slowly, Reaper’s arms closed in on Jack’s body and Gabriel moved to embrace him. His form blanketed Jack and he wondered, really considered, if Jack was able to feel his touch. Was it the same touch Jack had dreamt he’d one day get to feel again? If it weren’t, would it still be acceptable? 

Bringing Jack with him without protest, Gabriel stood back up. He side-stepped before letting gravity ungracefully pull him down onto the couch. There was a feeling of possessiveness he hadn’t felt in a long time, lingering inside him. Part of him honestly considered retreating to cool off, but it was out weighed by the knowledge he’d turned his back on Jack and had him snatched under his nose before. Never again. Still, he released him enough so that Jack could sit on his own beside him.

“My body refuses to stay intact,” he added, having to remind himself where in the conversation they were. At this point he’d given up on touchy subjects. “Nor will it die.”

Jack looked like the world’s most curious tiny droid, his line of sight never moving from Gabriel. 

“Was it the explosion interacting with the SEP serum?” Jack asked, innocently enough. It was a good question, something Gabriel had considered, but never thoroughly explored. They’d been pumped with enough questionable substances in SEP, it honestly wouldn’t surprise him if they didn’t have a play in the process as well, even if minor.

Gabriel shook his head. “No. Try a botched nanotech revival courtesy of Mercy. Every last inch of me is violent, starving and  _ alive _ .” Without a conscious thought, his fingers ghosted against Jack’s face. 

“Angela? She rescued you? Is she alright?” 

Gabriel made a noise that mixed both the art of growling and grumbling. Jack, ever the family man, of course he cared. “She didn’t rescue me. Try condemned.” Then, lower, he continued. “We don’t stay in contact. My nanites would devour her on sight.” 

“Devour?” Jack parroted his choice of words. 

Well, if they didn’t talk about it now, Jack would only discover soon enough. Probably sooner than later, considering how fast Gabriel’s gathered energy seemed to burn. His emotions and nanite activity were the quickest way to exhaust and starve him.

“They require certain means to survive. I’m not human anymore. I can’t live off the same sustenance.” 

Jack didn’t have the face to express it, but Gabriel could just picture the look he’d give him.

“Life,” Jack provided the unspoken answer to what exactly he was getting at. “They drain life. That’s why the bodies you leave are drained.”

Gabriel’s head lowered. He wasn’t ashamed of it fully. Most lives he took and feasted off deserved fates much worse than what they got. However, there were those, in the beginning, who were innocent and fell victim to his cruel way of life. If he didn’t cherry pick who he killed however, the starved nanites would just rampage on their own and consume any soul they came across. Survival was their top priority, despite what Gabriel wanted.

Jack sighed audibly. 

“Well,” he spoke in a voice searching for a way to make the subject lighter, “you eat souls and I’m now a tin can. I think it's safe to say we’ve thoroughly surpassed our former selves.”

Jack cannot see the twitch of a grin on Gabriel’s mouth. He chuckled, though. 

“It’s not that I’d rather roll over and take it in the ass. That’s an older pastime.” Jack tiptoed carefully as he reiterated to respond to Gabriel's burst of outrage before. As overdue as that pastime was. “I’ve had a lot of time to imagine what I would do if I ever got a chance with Talon. I was angry for even longer. That was when I considered there to still be hope I would have a body or a life to return to. We both know now that’s long gone.” 

To emphasize his following point, Jack lifted himself up on his legs before tumbling back down into a sitting position. Whether the tumble was planned or not, he played it off with elegant omnic grace. 

“This is my only alternative. What am I supposed to offer against Talon like this? I’m where they planned for me. They trapped me inside here, with the sole purpose of setting me at a disadvantage no matter the outcome. In that way they won. I’m a soldier and this body goes against everything I know. I can’t balance myself, let alone roll in guns blazing.”

Gabriel’s fingers drummed softly on the metal of Jack’s head. It was a valid observation, sure, but he did not honestly feel this was the final conclusion. Jack’s mindset might have been forcefully altered into something bleak, but confidently he felt he would make sure this was nothing more than another transition on a path to freeing Jack fully. 

“Eventually, these limitations won't hinder me. I’ll find footing. I’d love nothing more than to take them down. To have my retribution. But I’ve come to terms that might not come for me. At least for some time. Despite that there is something I can hold onto until then, Gabe. You’re alive. They’ve taken my body, but they have not taken everything from me.” 

“Hopeless,” Gabriel said flatly.

Flustered, Jack growled a little in annoyance and his body boxeed up closer to itself. Gabriel hummed at the sight. There was always such sincerity to Jack’s little speeches. 

“Mi sol,” he whispered. “Don’t settle. Even from inside there, I will promise you a front row seat. Talon will burn and fall and we’ll both watch it happen.” He curled a talon under the bottom of Jack’s head and coaxed it to angle upward toward him. “We’ll find upgrades.”

Jack’s voice glitched when he huffed out a laugh. “Upgrades,” he parroted, back to focusing his view somewhere lower and messing with what functions he could. The back of his voice sounds mildly uncomfortable. “Is it really that easy?”

Gabriel knew neither he or Jack were strangers to omnics, their war, and the everlasting stigma the machines left on them. However, somehow, both of them ended up genetically having more in common with their former enemies then their own original flesh and blood. It wasn’t a comfortable thought process to consider what they were exactly, what made them work, how their physical forms could be modified. They were different types, obviously so with Gabriel’s swarm of the tiny robotics, but the concept was familiar. 

Jack couldn’t possibly be completely happy about the thought of not only being shoved into a robotic body so much as getting to upgrade parts of it and switch out modules of himself for the rest of his life for certain qualities. He wasn’t some lego creation to be pulled and modified. Still, Reaper had something in mind he would not bring up just yet. He already regretted the time Jack would be robbed from being able to cope with his situation on top of everything else. Time was important. They couldn’t sit still and they needed to move on from here - whatever ended up happening between them.  

They remained in a stale silence, until Jack shifted his observation back onto Gabriel. He had no face to read which was still unsettling, but even so Gabriel found himself moving even the slightest in return, to respond to an invisible body language between them. Acknowledging Jack’s line of sight in the least. 

“Why the mask?” 

Gabriel sighed, shifting his attention to the side. “I’m not a pretty sight anymore, Jackie,” he admitted. 

“Are you insinuating you were before?” Jack’s voice held signs of its own ambiguous smirk. “We’re the only ones here.” 

Little shit. Gabriel halted a growl from escaping his throat. Instead he raised his arm in front of his mask, knowing full well that Jack was still spectating from the side. The nanites fell from it like heavy ash in clumps, before scattering and dissolving in the air as if in search of something. Hungrily. 

“Imagine this,” he began, spreading the muscles of his hand, watching as it struggled to keep shape. “Constantly trying to rebuild themselves, but not being able to recall what they needed to build. Only focusing on feeding.” He clenched his hand. “So they try to fill a void with eyes, teeth... That’s my face.”

He looked down at Jack as if expecting anything, but there was nothing for him to go on. Just his mask’s reflection in his lens. He could sense the sarcastic thoughts forming in Jack’s mind. It was the annoying way he chose to cope, settling with a bad sense of humor. Gabriel wasn’t sure any length of time stuck alone in his own mind would take that from Jack. 

“If I can handle your Darth Vader impersonation, I think I can handle that.” 

Gabriel huffed in response. “Not this time.”

The denial didn’t deter Jack from more conversation and asking the questions on his mind. 

“Will you kill to feed?” he asked. 

Gabriel could only imagine what exactly Jack had in mind when he envisioned how he fed. It probably wasn’t too far from the truth of what his earlier life as a wraith consisted, but times had changed and he had found different ways to manage his being. More ‘ethical’ ways or some shit like that. 

“I have other methods to get by,” he answered Jack honestly, but half assedly. Not giving a response might have led to the risk of Jack’s robotic brain overheating.

Instead, surprisingly, Jack didn’t press on it. Gabriel was honestly expecting to have to explain further, and why he chose to feed the way that he did, but instead it didn’t seem like he would. Jack accepted that answer and instead turned to reprimanding him.

“You shouldn’t starve yourself.”

“I’ll feed soon,” Reaper responded, straightening himself up.

“Tonight?”

He growled at the persistence. “Soon.”

Jack never did give up easily though.. “Take me.” 

  
  


\-------------------------------------------------

  
  


The need to chuckle was hard to dismiss inside Gabriel. To his side, in the passenger seat of the vehicle, Jack was being held captive tightly by the seat belt strap. He wasn’t sure what exactly compelled him to wrap him up so safely this time, especially when Jack would’ve been fine. Still, just knowing he was there, tucked in naturally as someone should be in a seat, not being able to see even the slightest bit over the dashboard, was undoubtedly humorous to him. It was a nice change from the seriousness of their situation, even for a very brief moment. 

They’d been driving in relative silence. Gabriel hadn’t anticipated how fast they would leave the safe house that night. Yes, there had always been urgency, but he figured their departure would be the next morning at the least. Well, with Jack in tow. He’d expected, not counting their heart to heart, he would slip away at some point to battle against his growing hunger. Their conversations and his emotions made it even more pressing that he expected. 

Back at the safe house, their conversation had covered a lot of obvious questions and confrontations of what had happened between both of them, but Jack still had questions. Reaper wouldn’t hold it against him, he was locked up answering himself and assuming the worst for years, everything he knew was up for questioning. He would answer as many questions as he felt he could for Jack. Tip toe around the others. 

Unsurprisingly, being the subject in question, Jack’s head was turned towards Gabriel, watching as he drove. What? Did he think that he might miss something, or that Gabriel would vanish? Then again, Jack had to live with a fear that everything would come crumbling down and be taken from him once again. 

“Where was the body?” Jack’s voice was low and considerable. “The clone.”

Gabriel tightened his single handed grip on the steering wheel, driving smoothly ahead into the night. 

“Back of an old facility. Abandoned.”

A bump on the road gently rocked Jack’s metal frame, causing it to clash. 

“Abandoned?” Apparently, he hadn’t been expecting that. “I always wondered what they had hoped to accomplish by keeping it around. If the omnic inside still controlled it somewhere.” 

Reaper stole a side glance at his passenger, his eyes narrowing at the returning thought of the corpse’s former pilot. How much he would like to get ahold of the data and memory of the omnic that housed it. How much he wanted to kick its ass. However, a lot was still unknown in that regard. Was it an omnic conscious that had piloted it, or was it completely a robotic toy someone sat behind controls and conducted?

“I listened to the news years after the explosion, just waiting to hear if they would unearth it again with my face and start more chaos.”

Gabriel’s thoughts began to roll, certain questions becoming more pressing with his last memories of the omnic clone and some of its last recorded feats. Suddenly, Gabriel had a question he felt the strongest need to ask, even if he also acknowledged how it might trigger Jack to feel.

“The explosion,” Gabriel began, anger fueling his words as he recalled. His surface nanites scattered. “Did the puppet signal it?”

Jack’s silence wasn’t unexpected. If possible, his frame stilled even more.

Gabriel could imagine how traumatic a question like that could be, but his want for an answer combined with his growing hunger won over his ability to sympathize. Still, how could that have been for Jack? To be stuck inside his own prison, watching it all crumble, then seeing his own 'body' of sorts press down on the button. Or was it different? Had it been radioed in?

Gabriel loosened his grip on the steering wheel, turning his body so that he sat the furthest from seeing Jack. The guilt, although small compared to his absolute need for answers, began to show its head uninvited. Damn. Why had he asked that out of the blue again? There would be a time and a place for that. Jack would open up to him later about these things. He needed to believe that he would for their cause. 

"Did you leave it there? At the abandoned facility?" Jack's voice was steeled over in his questions.

Avoidance. Maybe that was an answer to Gabriel on its own. Now his mind's messed up imaginary scenario of what Jack must have witnessed - the fight with Gabriel, the words that had been said, the fall of the building, the information of the bombs order or how it was conducted - was almost complete. Why did he need to obsess over it when just hours earlier he was satisfied and felt something about pulling Jack away from that, but now he was itching to interrogate? 

"It's with a colleague. Sombra. She's extracting what she can that will be of use to us. Anything they wouldn't want the world to know." It was interesting how lax he felt sharing the information with him. Then again it was Jack, he reminded himself, the real Jack.

He'd possibly always have to remind himself of this.

Jack's speaker vibrates with a faked nervous laugh. "That's some real private stuff. From many perspectives."

Undoubtedly. Things more than just Jack would be mortified to ever watch again.

Flashes of the memories of one too many attempts to fight and get through to a robotic intruder he'd mistaken as his lover threatened to flood his thoughts. He'd lived through enough dirt Sombra was sure to find, but at the same time with their goal so heavily in mind - his goal and need for retribution - it was fine. They lived it once, it had its impact on who they were and that's all it needed to be now.        

"That name sounds familiar."

Gabriel relaxed in their seat, not bothering with the casualness of a blinker as they pulled into a more residential area. "She’s a hacker."

Jack's head bravely perked. Were his 'wires' connecting about it? "She tried reaching me a few times I think. I was never able to communicate back. I just figured it was Talon's work, trying to convert more of my mind into technology."

His voice lowered, a dark thought taking hold. "Really, of course, they'd just put me somewhere as a piece of furniture to die out instead."

That wasn't going to be put aside. Gabriel was sure of that. They had their differences, they had their experiences and trauma, but that was unforgivable.

So far in their trip, Jack, who had been so insistent on joining him while he searched for his next source of sustenance, had not pried or tried to figure out where they were headed. His thoughts were in a different place, or perhaps it was his control of his new body still. Gabriel had not been able to determine from his outside perspective yet if it seemed to pain him to move his small robotic form yet. There was a significantly less amount of bitching about his joints than suspected if so, but that left things inconclusive.

When Gabriel turned the vehicle into a parking lot, lit up by fluorescent flickering lights, Jack's attention shifted to the outside world and what he could manage to see when he lifted himself up as tall as possible. His lens, unable to see what was directly in front of them could see what they passed close enough in the passenger window. The giant neon sign, hospital emblem, and an arrow to an emergency room did not pass his view unnoticed.

"A hospital?" he questioned, struggling at the top of his 'legs' to see more. "Gabe. You can't be serious. Surely you do not-"

"Don't get your digital panties in a wad." Gabriel turned off the vehicle.

He'd pulled it into a spot in the back of the parking lot where the street lamps were the worst and it was several lanes until the next car. The hospital was way past its visiting hours and it was small enough town that any cars still at the facility were few and closer to the door. Its emergency facility, however, was alive and bustling even at these hours in the night. Exactly what Gabriel was counting on.

"They have a morgue here," he explained, turning towards Jack.

He didn't want Jack out of his sight. Talon had snatched Jack and his life from him once before, and although he had a much stronger resolve and anger to make sure it would never happen again, the feeling that it could still happen so easily ate at his being. He'd take Jack wherever he went if it were possible, but this would be more difficult.

When Gabriel fed in places such as this on the recently deceased, it was a quick recon in, ghosting around until he located the mortuary then an even faster exit after he had the most fill he could manage. Things only got complicated if, perhaps, he felt guilty enough to attempt leaving some with the chance for open casket funerals.

Of course he did humor what Jack must've thought of him the moment he saw the hospital sign. Yes, Gabriel had always had the 'flair for dramatics' as he had been told in his past life and he had given himself the title of Reaper, but by no means had that become a fun hobby for him. He wasn't visiting anyone here to help them pass on. Only those who already had and he could find use for them yet.

Gabriel's mind traveled back to the situation at hand, his hand hesitating at the top of the seat belt securing Jack inside. It was pointless to try and figure out a way for him to come inside as well. Jack didn't need to see the process either. Whatever had been detailed in the news over the years for him to to pick up and imagine was close enough.

"I imagine you want to go alone?"

Somewhere in the void of Gabriel's face, he cracked a smile. Imaginatively he smudged at the surface of Jack's head piece, picturing his cheek of sorts. Still not sure exactly if Jack would be able to sense it or not, but at least if he saw it he would be able to read and understand the motion.

"Cheer up, buttercup. It'll be faster this way."

Jack's lens adjusts with his reflection and directed itself downward. Almost like a nod of understanding.

"I'll secure the vehicle then."

Gabriel chuckled behind his mask. It was distorted, per usual, but light in its own way at the same time. He removed his hand from Jack, his nanites already catching up to speed with his plan. Without saying another word to his passenger, his body shifted and dissolved into a swarm of black. It moved as one collective mass, through the crack of his window and blended impeccably into the night as he headed towards the hospital.

The night and poor lighting outside provided him with more than enough cover to find his way into a floor less populated and observed, and the directory plastered on its wall. It was a small hospital, but as he suspected with its trauma center, it housed a moderately sized mortuary. Or as others might see it, an all you can eat buffet. His own thought processes sickened even himself at times.

No matter where Reaper resided, what country - what state, there was very little that was different about the setup of a morgue. They were always overly sanitized and pungent and way too clean. He didn’t bother with the lights.

Reaper had picked an excellent moment it had seemed - no personnel were present inside of the morgue. He preferred it that way. Since shifting to a 'recently deceased only' diet, he found little joy in torturing his starving body by using his nanites to smother and knock innocent bystanders unconscious to enjoy his meals in private.

His presence descended from the vent where he had entered and fumbled into solidity. Once physical, Reaper turned to face the sleek mortuary freezer. Even in the dimmed light, it reflected his image back to himself. He avoided his own gaze, approaching the wall and turning his attention to the first suspended clipboard. It wasn't like him to get personal with meals such as this by any means, but he still had standards. The first he skimmed did not meet them. A day old, no good. He needed something from today. Hours ago preferably.

Reaper made his way down the line, stopping at the furthest from his point of arrival, closest to the door. This one was the 'freshest' in the market. Car accident. It would do fine for now until he could find better sustenance elsewhere. Perhaps after they returned back to Sombra.

He wasted no time, remembering the tin can waiting for him back at the car. Reaper opened the door to the freezer and slid the body out with ease. Even shrouded under thin fabric, he could tell he was young. Respectfully he wouldn't remove the sheet, his nanites didn't require it. They would go wherever they pleased to get their quick meal, whether he watched or not.

Like sand trickling away, he could feel himself coming apart, each particle of himself separating and phasing through the fabric over the body. In no time they spread and engulfed it, thriving in their dark space. There wasn't any taste to this feeding, but he could feel it. A calm and collective energy he needed as his fix, to better focus and keep himself under control. Like his own sedative.

Reaper wanted to let the feeling spread among his fibers, but instantly he recoiled in on himself, withdrawing. He snarled out. Unexpectedly, the mortuaries lights flickered on, disturbing his task at hand. He did not appreciate an audience. The fact that the door to the area hadn't even been opened and he was still alone made it even more annoying. The room’s intercom, settled next to the door, buzzed to life.

"Paging Dr. Reyes. Paging Dr. Reyes. Please turn on your comm. Over." Sombra's voice happily came through.

Reaper was not as amused. Forcing his hand together, he reached up, settling the comm in his ear. As if Sombra couldn't have manually done it herself from her location. She really enjoyed nothing more than souring his mood.

"Sombra," he growled.

"You are not hard to find at all. Do you even care about security footage where you go? Listen, I'm not interested in watching your shit show."

His impatience was rising. If she had bothered to find his location, play around and sass him, she had better found something with the omnic and if that were the case, he wanted to know. Immediately.

"What have you found?"

"Well," ghe began, her tone shifting into something more serious. "You'll want to finish up your snack and head this way. I've found some broken information on the specs of this thing you will definitely be interested in."

Reaper grasped at the extra fabric gathering around the remainder of the corpse. Less to cover now. Soon to be little to nothing.

"Such as?"

"I don't think the explosion was the last time the Morrison wannabe was up and active. I was able to piece together some stuff they tried to wipe and their recordings date past it."

Recordings dated past the explosion? What could Talon have used a clone of Jack for after the explosion when they had already planted his real corpse and written him off deceased? He'd seen the destruction on the droid, how had it survived in one piece after the explosion to begin with?

"Recordings of what?"

Sombra sighed on the other end of the line. "I'm not going to sugarcoat it. They were hard to watch after I cleared them up. This thing was a killing machine. It definitely sustained damage after the explosion but they still used it some after. Looks like they found survivors and took em out. Let them think it was him and everything. I don't think I want to watch these again."

Overwatch. They sent the Jack Morrison impersonator, damaged and publicly listed as deceased out into the field to find former Overwatch agents and cut them down? Where Reaper stood when it came to his former colleagues and organization was blurred, but that knowledge still made him slightly ill. And angry. Everything about it all enraged him. They toyed and ruined their lives and then just continued to play until what? Their toy broke down? So then they locked it away until they felt the need to restart it and relive their fun?

"Was Jack involved?" The words escaped out loud before he could even explore them.

There was a great dread in his gut to imagine if Jack had been entrapped in the droid still when it went and killed their people. Something told him that couldn't be the case. Jack was carrying a lot of guilt from his situation, even if there was little he could do against it, but he was not holding the guilt of their squadron’s deaths on his shoulders as well. He watched Overwatch fall and his relationships burn, but if Jack knew that Talon had used his image to outright slaughter many, he hadn't brought it up, which seemed out of character. Jack would have never let that go, Reaper was positive of that. He seemed confused of the fate of the omnic after that date.

"No. What I found suggests he had been removed by that point, but the data is corrupted. I just filled in the pieces to make it work.”  

Gabriel prayed that was the case. That Jack didn't know what happened afterward. That there was even the possibility someone he worked along side could have had a moment to think that he was alive only to then be cut down by him. Talon had done enough. Perhaps later the information could be shared and it would be, he would not allow him to be in the dark forever, but not now. Jack was fragile. Even if he could play the tough man about his situation and had already found a way to shift his tone to something relatively calm, he was struggling.

Gabriel couldn’t help but be reminded of the thick air and silence in the car when he had asked Jack his question about the explosion. How easily he had let it pass through him despite how tense of a subject matter it was. Jack, whether he knew or not, stressed enough with the knowledge about the droid triggering the madness. He shouldn’t have to imagine what else it had done since. It would never perform acts like that again. 

Reaper killed his end of the comm. His anger remained fueled and no longer did he pay mind to his preferences. He forcefully took out the lights and violated the closed cracks of the freezer. He had his fill.

\---------------------------------                                            ---------------------------- ---

 

Sombra’s grin was mischievous when they rendezvous back at the safe house. She was arms deep inside her newest toy, tinkering away inside. Her progress was a lot further than the last time Reaper had been there. Tons of wires connected from the droid’s insides as well as its back and led in several directions - most towards Sombra’s computer setup off in another area. Despite appearing to have been working hard, her attitude seemed overly pleased at the sight of their entrance. 

Reaper held Jack in one arm against himself. He’d scanned for a surface to place him on at first, but anywhere not covered in wires vacated energy drinks and dismissed snacks. A professional's work space. 

Sombra lifted herself out of the droid, her hands on the edge of the table. With a quick gesture of her head to the side, the music she had been blaring while she worked lowered, as did the change in her festive work lighting. How she performed the way she did under such circumstances, Reaper would never understand. But everyone deserved their own aesthetic. 

“If isn’t the boys,” she said in greeting them. 

“Sombra, I’m guessing?” Jack’s voice buzzed against his chest.

Sombra nodded, disconnecting herself completely from her work and making her way around to the front of the table to stand before them. 

“The one and only. It’s nice to officially meet you,  _ Strike Commander _ .” 

On instinct, a snarl built up behind Reaper’s mask. Sombra could have her games, but there were some phrases in this situation that would not be met casually. Sombra made no attempts to underline her eyeroll at his response.

“Got it, touchy subject.” She waved him off, focusing back instead to Jack. 

Jack didn’t address the slip up. If it bothered him, of course, he did not show it. Even with his voice, he could keep face. “You were the one who unlocked my consciousness, correct? I think there's a thank you in order.” 

Reaper angled his head to scan over Jack in his grasp. He hadn’t even realized that Jack had put together that she had found the way to free his consciousness into its current space. Or rather, like the painful words spoken earlier, ‘fully condemned him inside it’. That was a responsibility he would have taken and lived when it meant selfishly giving Jack his freedom. 

Still, Reaper felt like he could pick up on the feeling behind Jack’s glassed over words. It was a bitter thanks still. How wasn’t it? 

“Wow. Don’t mention it. No really. Feels weird to get recognition around here.” Sombra shot Reaper a quick look and walked back around the table. 

Reaper took a few steps forward, covering the space between the two of them and the droid. He wasn’t sure if Jack had personal interest at all in seeing it - certainly not drawn out on a table being molested with technologies - but he felt the need to scrutinize it under his glare. Picturing it mimicking a smile that he loved and a reassuring voice before causing even more pain in its deception. 

“So I was able to piece a few more recordings together. Pre the big bang. Mostly transmissions I’m sure Jack could have told us.” Sombra’s hand glided over some wires before yanking them out inelegantly. “Otherwise, I don’t think there will be much more to gain from this tin can unfortunately. They did a good job frying its first A.I. and tearing up its insides.”

 When Jack was encased inside, the omnic did operate on an A.I. system then? An omnic entity whose only purpose and life was to take orders to act out for Talon while Jack watched helplessly. Reaper wasn’t sympathetic to omnics, and it was more than probable the A.I. in question didn't even know it was nothing more than a puppet serving Talon’s dirty purpose during its life, but in their current time it alluded to even more ‘consciousnesses’ wrongfully lost. Omnic entities weren’t referred to as just machines anymore in modern day, they were their own person. 

Sombra seemed sure on the damage done to the omnic casing, however. Reaper’s mind could not help but be cornered with his strategic thoughts. Did that still make it unable to be used? It was another selfish and possibly cruel thought process on his part, but he couldn’t help but see value in it yet. He hated it with a passion, and he understood that Jack had to detest it as well, but if there was even the chance of it being a better and more suitable ‘body’ for Jack, why wouldn’t they take it?

It wasn’t for vain reasons. Not because it was the spitting image of what Jack originally used to be. It was humanoid and could provide Jack with more function that he desired, more freedom. It still mimicked a lot of what Jack had originally been, such as his strength. He could be a soldier again, he wouldn’t have to accept what Talon’s cards had decided for him. The ‘upgrades’ they had spoken of. It made a lot more sense than trying to help him from scratch and build up. 

It seemed like an obvious thought process and choice to make. 

“Is it still functional?” Reaper gritted out from the back of his throat. He hadn’t noticed when, in the presence of all of this, it had began to burn. 

Sombra’s face softened. Her eyes moved to him, looking at him in her confusion. “What?”

Jack’s body shook as his pieces began to move so that he too could look in Reaper’s direction in a scrutinizing way. His lens whizzed and focused. 

“The omnic. Is it damaged beyond repair? Could it function again?” Reaper reiterated his question, this time with more determination. He wasn’t standing down because of their confusion. He wanted to fucking know.

Sombra furrowed her brows. “It’s a heap of spare parts you could do what you want with if that’s what you mean. If you mean bring it back online as a whole...” She shifted how she stood, visibly uncomfortable with the idea. “I mean I get it. You want to use it as a new casing for Jack, right? There’s just too many unknowns with this thing, too much blood on its wires and I don’t think you understand the situation. People don’t just get placed into omnics. That's a science I don’t get. I’m a hacker, not a mad scientist. Talon does not just have that information lying around for me. I’ve been looking.” 

“There’s no need Sombra.” Jack’s gaze digs into Reaper as he speaks. His voice stern. “You’ve done enough, I couldn’t ask you to do anything more than you have.” 

Reaper’s reaction is to growl. Jack was shutting down his proposal before he could even understand it. His feelings on the matter were important, but surely he needed to understand and see how much of an asset this could be for him. Even if on the outside the mention of the idea was horrifying to him. 

“It’s what you need. Independence and mobility. If there were any way to go after Talon yourself, this would be ideal. To survive this is ideal.” Reaper shoved shit aside off the table, wires and oddities alike to make room to set Jack down onto its corner. Right next to the omnic shell.

“Forgive me if I don’t warm up to the idea,” Jack responded, sitting himself up straighter and away from his neighbor. “I’d rather suffer in a shit can like this, than return to the puppet that ruined everything. The man that thing emulates is dead. I won’t be forced into it again.” 

“The only thing this emulates is a soldier. What you are. The only way you’ve ever lived. Talon cannot control you anymore and their connections to this are severed. Use their property as a gain. It’s just a shell, it can be modified. It’s scrap metal. It can’t touch a dead man’s life anymore.”  

Sombra stood up straighter, reaching out to cup at the omnics face despite the two grown men arguing around her. She turned it, allowing herself to take a good long look at its face. Her thumb brushed against it before she released it again. She gazed up to look at them once more when the heavy silence became more evident. Reaper only willed that she  considered what he'd been trying to say. She had no real personal attachments to Jack, but still it was the most reasonable response. 

“Fixing it up would require some major modifications. It wouldn't be recognizable if that’s your main concern. I don’t blame you not wanting to look at that face in the mirror again. No offense.”  Sombra shrugged before crossing her arms. “I mean, what the hell, I’ll give it a shot. I’m serious though. Moving his consciousness in one piece isn’t going to be easy.”

Reaper looked back over at Jack. His head piece has shifted now, changing to stare down at the omnic in question and its face that has not fully fallen over from where Sombra moved it. Had she moved it purposely so that he would have to face it so directly?

“I will handle the transfer.” Reaper’s claim was definite.  

Sombra sighed. “I’ll get started on some designs then,” she started before falling to a much harder to hear mutter. “Study some omnic restoration videos.”

With a twist on her heel, she angled herself perfectly towards the exit and headed out, giving Reaper nothing but a slight wave of her hand as a support. It was all he needed to feel confident she understood what he was proposing. 

The silence between him and Jack, now alone in the room, stretched further. Gabriel hesitated, then moved to the end of the table behind Jack, granting himself a full view of the body from its head down. His heart ached at its familiarity, even probed under wires, even with Jack stationed right next to its face on the corner.

Jack broke the silence in his own way, a fake laugh leaving his speakers. Gabriel was familiar with it. He knew the type of mood Jack was in when his fake laugh came to play. He was nervous and out of his element. 

“Come on, Gabe,” Jack spoke and his voice was forcibly calm. He was obviously staring directly at the image of his old self. “Be honest. We all know your real motive here. Not feeling the new look, are you?”

Slowly, Jack’s head shifted and his lens reflected Gabriel back at himself. Letting himself respond naturally, Gabriel crouched down, coming to the same level as Jack. Face to face. As all of their meaningful conversations had ever been, as they ever would be. Jack’s attempt at lifting the conversation was a diversion. Gabriel could see right through it.

“As long as you are here and speaking to me, none of that matters.” Gabriel’s heart folded in on itself as he reached out with a single hand and drummed his talons against Jack’s side. “Anything to have you safe and at my side. I won’t force you to do this, Jackie,” he exhaled the words deeply from behind his mask. 

“I want you to see there are possibilities. You don’t have to live how Talon decided. You can make them regret ever touching our lives. I will work with whatever you decide.”

Even if Gabriel thought this to be the best option for Jack and wanted to press on it to happen, he wouldn’t force Jack into it. It wouldn’t happen without his approval in some way. He wasn’t going to entrap Jack in any way, shape or form. He wanted him to be a free man - he already served enough time in a way he never should for things out of his control. Easily, they could stop their planning for this omnic shell and dispose of it elsewhere. The ball was in Jack’s court.

Gabriel still had mixed feelings to sort out about his fictionalized past with who he thought had been his Jack, but he knew for certain this was the consciousness of the man he loved and respected.

“We watch each other’s backs,” he added. Jack couldn’t see it, but he hoped at the least he could recall the grin that might have accompanied such a slogan as it once did in their shared past. “If you want to retire away from it all and watch me kick ass from the sidelines, that can be arranged too. Sombra would enjoy the company.” 

Jack huffed at that. Had to be in response to the kicking ass thing Gabriel declared he would be doing. 

“I want more,” Jack admitted. “I don’t want to settle. I’m so angry I can hardly focus. I want to take Talon down. I know that this would achieve that, but I-”

There was a twitch to Jack’s leg that started small until it intensifies angrily and he lost balance. It fed the frustration that tainted into his voice. 

“I feel like everything will be taken from me once more. It’s happening so fast, how do I process this? Talon took everything and I was in there-” he stuttered, facing back towards the omnic, “- that prison. I wanted nothing more than it all to end. I was supposed to rot away. I had accepted that. I was going to die that way. But, Gabe, you’re alive and suddenly there are chances? That can’t be right. I don’t have those. This will fail in some way. I’m not ready for that. I can’t handle that.”

Jack’s twitches calmed and his head hinged downward. “I don’t believe I can live to be more than just this anymore.” 

Watching Jack crumble in front of him was devastating. Gabriel was a mix of emotions and his particles made it evident. He hated Talon to the core for ever breaking Jack down as much as they had, into a shell of a man he once had been. It wasn’t true, he had to swear to himself. Jack was at the lowest point possible, but it wasn’t all gone. He could rise up again and feel free, not always hounded by the past and what he had to experience. 

Jack wasn’t trapped anymore and Gabriel yearned so much for him to understand it. He didn’t have to stay put where he was. His biggest saving grace wasn’t that he got to wake up in a tiny robotic body and he could stay that way and be satisfied. He would never be satisfied. He could have more, he should have it. He shouldn’t be scared the world would crumbled down around him if he tried it. 

Gabriel lifted himself up slightly. He was still crouching next to the table, but now close enough to Jack’s small form that when he angled his own mask, it was able to subtly clash into Jack’s surface. Closest thing to butting heads they would get at the moment. He wanted to caress Jack’s soul, hold him close the way they use to embrace with their bodies. He wanted to ease Jack’s pain with his words, let his voice soothe over him. Instead he could only try not to speak so distortedly with his own missing pieces. They’d been through so much and still were so alike in their suffering. It was time to be more than that. Both of them deserved more.

“Mi Sol,” Gabriel urged his vocals through. “If it's all doomed to fail, shouldn’t you get to chose how it plays out? Why not risk the chance? What do you have to lose?” 

Jack lifts up, his surface pressing back against Gabriel’s mask and pushing it against his face. Obviously, he fears losing the one thing he was so happy to discover hadn’t actually died in the flames. Questionable motives aside. Gabriel raised his head before shaking it. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Gabriel quietly promised him. “You will not be taken from me again. We won't be deceived. I won't let this fail. Your soul will be in my hand the whole time.”

Unexpectedly, Jack’s speaker laughed. It was a light laugh, genuine, but still did not fit the mood. It flustered Gabriel quickly, who straightened and moved to stand. He was being sincere, dammit.

“I understand. I’m sorry.” Jack clarified. “I couldn’t help it. Cheesy lines and ‘your hand on my soul’? It’s literal, I know, but all the same we live a very fucked up reality, don’t we? How did we get here?” 

Still rustled that his admiration of love had led to humor, Gabriel reached out and took hold of Jack once more. Somehow he had found he liked cradling Jack in one arm against him. It calmed him. That, and the body exposed on the table only added more to the awkwardness of the situation. 

“If you think you can make it work, I’m game. I’ll try.” Jack seemed content with his spot nestled in Gabriel’s arm. “I have a request however. Find me a pulse rifle.”

\-----------------------          ---------------------------------------------------

 

Restoring the omnic body to functionality was a bigger feat than they had imagined. It took a lot more work restoring it. When Sombra spoke of it being fried, she wasn’t understating it. Lots of its motor function needed to be completely revamped. She claimed it might lock up at times or be a stiff move, but at the cost of thumbs, the trade would still be worth it. 

They weren’t working with the budget to fool the world like Talon had, when they crafted their machine so there was very little that they could do when it came to the omnics cosmetics. The material they used to mimic skin was a foreign concept to Sombra, and honestly, she didn’t want to deal with it. They opted to keep some minor tears, sew others for appearance purposes or remove them all together. Many splotches were below the neck, great hiding spots for metal plating. Jack couldn’t care less if they would be there. None of this was to try and grant his former appearance. He was adamant about not being pretty boy Jack Morrison once more. Just a Soldier. 

To test how her process was going, Sombra had to power up the omnic many times to get a feel of how much damage had been done. Many sensors were beyond repair. Unfortunately, the mechanics of the face were also beyond help due to the major gashes nearly splitting it in half. There was a sick symbolism in it tearing up his face that Jack was accepting of. 

“You won’t be able to see properly out of the eyes, they are busted. I’ve been working on them for days and it’s no use. I can give you some control over the eyelids but that’ll be about it. You probably won’t smile again either. They were connected to the face’s circuits as well,” Sombra explained one night to Jack. 

Often, as the project was no quick feat, they were the only two remaining at the safe house while Reaper was away carrying out jobs for Talon or finding what materials Sombra requested. Sombra would work on the omnic and Jack would keep company, it was at the current moment what he did best. 

“That’s not necessary,” Jack reassured her. “Will you install a lens then?” 

He wasn’t sure how he would imagine that going, if it would be similar to the single lens he had now or not. Either way, it didn’t matter. As long as one way or another he had a way to sense his surroundings. 

Sombra shook her head. “No. I’ve got a better idea planned for the face. I think you’ll like it because it involves covering it up.” She poked at the temples of the omnic’s head, squishing the skin like a stress ball. “There’s ports here I can make use of. Could whip together something to connect here and give you sight but also you could take it off if you ever needed to blend in and just look like a wrecked old guy.” 

“Old guy?” Jack repeated, almost teasingly to lighten the mood. “What are you suggesting?”

Sombra laughed to herself. “I”m suggesting I’m not even touching this sun bleached hair. Or any wear on this skin. You’re just going to have to commit.” 

Regardless of the little things,Sombra had worked out of her comfort zone and achieved marvelous progress on the omnic. She had stripped all of its held information and ‘command codes’ and wiped it completely clean in anticipation for Jack’s control. It had to be dumbed down, she’d commented once before, simply because Jack’s brain didn’t work like a computerized consciousness to control everything a full robot body required. He tried not to take offense. All of her technical terms already went over his head. 

Jack had still been cautious about the whole thing. He didn’t have the body language to suggest it, but his comments did enough to tip Gabriel off. He knew what to listen for. Even so, he hadn’t changed his mind since refitting the omnic began. They were going to give it ago. Of course, the biggest part of it relied on Gabriel to work.

Sombra tried relentlessly to find any more information from Talon on how they did the first conscious tranfer to put Jack in the machine or even how they went about taking him out, but found next to nothing. She considered for a while trying to find a way to just set up his current body in the bigger frame and connect the two, but dismissed that as well. Instead she tried to design a chamber for the upper chest that would stimulate what Jack’s current body had that held his consciousness. 

There was no explaining mathematically how it was done, but if it worked, it worked. Clearly it somehow did when Gabriel could see Jack’s soul. There wasn’t a race on time to place Jack into his new body, but each of them had growing anxieties the more time that passed. Still, there were some components - such as the visor Sombra was designing - that might be months still. 

It was on a night months after Reaper had brought Jack to this hideout and things began progressing on the omnic, that he took in everything Sombra was updating him on the status of her work. He had to commend her somewhere much nicer within himself on sticking around and persevering as much as she did out of her element. So much she had gotten finished in so little time. He would always scoff at it, but really she was a master of her craft. No one would doubt it after this. She would get her favor one day from both he and Jack as thanks.  

Sombra had actually sat the omnic up on the table that night. It was unsettling how lifelike it looked - like a damaged Jack Morrison sitting on the edge of the table, his face soft and eyes closed. As if he only had to approach it slowly and give it a soft nudge to awaken it. That wouldn’t work in the end. It was an empty shell. It was currently in a locked position with its inside mechanics to appear sitting so upright. Its chest was no longer open and exposed, but melded back together. 

Long gone were the remnants of the Strike Commander uniform it arrived in. For most of its progress, it had been covered in nothing more than a sheet or presented nude. At the moment, the sheet was sprawled across its lap, hiding more intimate areas Talon had felt the need to replicate. What their intentions were with that - or what they had felt they needed to prepare for with it, was lost on Gabriel. Sombra flusteredly wanted to remodel the lower regions right away because she felt it mocked her in some sick way. Jack opted to remain very silent.

Still it was something that had brought a little humor into their situation again when it  was the focus one night. Certainly something that, when all of this came to pass and worked out, Gabriel would not mind bringing up again to laugh about. 

“We should attempt the transfer,” he decided out loud and from his own thought process, stopping Sombra in her tracks as she fidgeted with things here and there on the omnic. 

“Tonight?” Her jaw hung open. “What? Did you not hear what I said? Theres still alot I want to try to finish first.” 

Her protest did little to sway Gabriel’s thought. “You said it could function operating alone.” 

“Yeah, but there’s still a lot that needs trial and error-”

“You’ll find out more when you results include it in use. Eyes on the inside.” Literally and figuratively. 

Sombra pouted, pulling back from the omnic to look it down. It was obvious that at some point along the way, the project became less of a concern of hers and turned into her favorite pet project. It included all of her newest tricks and designs and she had become very proud of it. At this point, there was even a little concern if she would willingly share it, even with Jack who she had gotten closer with as her tiny, immobile sidekick. 

“I guess so. It would beat starting it up every five minutes to run a diagnostic to find what I accidentally rerouted this time.” She tucked a little bit of its hair back down on his neck, attempting to hide a port. “I swear I am never touching engineering again. You two can find your own mechanic after all of this.”

Sombra circled around the table, giving it a few more inspections before she settled in front of Gabriel. She looked up at him, her brows lowered, a thoughtful expression on her face. 

“How sure are you that this will work?” she questioned, her lips pursing. “Let me rephrase that. How positive are you your nanos won’t suck his soul dry the minute they touch?”

For emphasis, she snapped her fingers. Reaper did not let it deter him. He stared down at her intensely from behind his mask. He wasn’t going to fail Jack. There wasn’t going to be any error where he ruined this now. He didn’t trust himself through normal circumstances, but he would force this to work for Jack. Jack would make it out of this and they would be successful.

Reaper didn’t indulge her in an answer. Instead he shadowed away from her and into Sombra’s room of the safe house where a different sort of someone waited for him. 

Amusingly enough, most days Jack’s body was settled on a chair they had found and pulled in to Sombra’s area. It was directed to a monitor that played broadcasts with subtitles, something Jack prefered given the silence. It resembled closely what he had been forced to do most of his time trapped away, which originally made them feel uncomfortable to only have that to offer him, but it was typically by his request to be placed there. Sombra even let him control the content on occasion. Usually trash television, but that night in particular it was on what seemed to be a documentary. Reaper only needed to glance at the screen a moment to recognize the Overwatch emblem.

“They announced plans to open up a museum.” Jack told him as he approached. “As if the statue weren’t already enough.” 

Reaper stared at the architectural concept art displayed on the screen. “I guarantee they’ll place another one.”

Jack audibly sighed, saying nothing as Reaper reached down and began to pick him up from his seat. 

“You seem cranky. Is it already bed time?”

Reaper snorted. Jack was fully aware he did not sleep. Neither of them did.  

“It’s time for something. You won't be as thrilled.” 

Jack seemed to understand when they emerged into the main room and the omnic was sitting up right on the table alone with the rest of the table clear. He would be sitting there himself in just a moment’s time.

“Ah,” he realized softly. “Time for trying this. I thought there were still some bugs to be worked out?”

His lens shifted over to Sombra who had stepped closer to the wall and out of the way. Her expression was focused, and if Jack was trying to dig for reasons to prolong this, he wouldn’t find them. 

“If this works and you're inside, those bugs will be a lot easier to manage.” She sent him a confident smirk. “Just try not to go after any bright lights. I worked really hard on this for you.” 

Gabriel grumbled to himself. “He won't see any tunnels. Do not psych him out.” 

Jack, the calmest sounding out of all of them, chuckled. “If I survived the out of body experience of SEP, this should be a cake walk.”

Gabriel set Jack down on the table next to the omnic. He took a step back, just to take in the sight. Jack certainly looked smaller next to the omnic, but he was close enough to it that Gabriel felt comfortable handling his soul. It would have to be quick, when he tried it, holding it only moments before trying to place it inside the chamber Sombra had made.

During his runs gathering supplies and feeding himself, he had attempted practice. Gabriel had worked with souls before, they were his new life force after all, but taking them in his hands for moments at a time and placing them back into chests was a new experience. His muscle memory so desired to crush them in his palms immediately, not play with his food. 

Sombra obscured his view, reaching over and jabbing at a location on the omnics chest, right under the collar bone. “Right here. Don’t even think about missing it.” 

Gabriel snarled, his attempt at focus pulled away from him. “Sombra.” 

Defensively, she raised her hands and stepped back to the wall where she knew she should remain. If she tried to distract him with his hand on Jack’s soul, it could end in tragedy very quickly. No one needed more tragedy here. 

Sombra turned to Jack then, patting at his head encouragingly. “When you get in there, it’s important you try and remain still. The coding won’t understand what you are and will try and push you out, but you will press on anyway. It might be painful. You might’ve already experienced it before when you woke up.”

Jack’s head slightly bobbed. 

“Don’t panic if you can’t see either. Actually, I should go get the visor prototype. When’s a better time to try it, amirite?” Sombra hunched herself over a little, grinning as she ran past Gabriel’s field of vision again in the direction of the room. Who knew how much time they would have until she returned with several things to try. 

As soon as she left the room, Gabriel stepped forward and found his reflection in Jack’s lens. 

“You aren’t going to wait for her are you?” Jack observed correctly.

Gabriel nodded. 

He moved his hand out, running his talons against Jack’s metal surface. Jack’s lens adjusted in response. 

“Wait. Gabe,” he whispered. 

Gabriel stopped his hand where it was, his eyes trying not to look straight through the lens of Jack’s body and straight at the flickering soul inside that stole his focus. 

“Thanks.” The words painted a picture in his mind of a pretty boy’s smile. “For finding me.” 

He didn’t reply. Gabriel’s chest constricted. He didn’t know what to say in response. He wasn’t good at this and he didn’t want to start saying potential goodbyes. When had they ever been granted times for goodbyes before? It wasn’t in the books for them, so why should they start now? Really, it had to be his own uncertainty. 

Months ago, he was so sure of this plan and its outcome. Now that it was his hand that had to reach inside and do the dirty work and hope for the best with Sombra’s work inside the omnic, everything become a lot more pressing. Did he know what he was doing? Did any of them know what they were doing? Perhaps he should have stop this now and leave it be. Have Jack remain that way. At least then he was still there and the risk of him dying and accidentally being absorbed by Gabriel’s gluttonous body. 

Now was a good time as any. He couldn’t keep prolonging it. His emotions were flaring up. It was Jack’s soul. His fucking soul flickering so obvious in his view. He held so much sentiment for it and now he was going to reach out and have it. He wanted it, badly, but in what way he wasn’t sure. It was fragile and so so important. He couldn’t ruin this. 

With his emotions shifting, the smoke of his body began to rise and haze the light out of the rest of the room. Focus. He needed to keep more focus. Strategically, Gabriel channeled his energy towards his hand against Jack’s metal front. Whatever happened, if he tore apart at the seams during this, at least the hand that held Jack could follow through with its purpose.

If Jack said anything more, or if Sombra returned to the room he didn’t hear it, didn’t know. It was as if he were no longer in the room in the safe house, standing in front of a tiny droid with his hand merging through its chest. It was just him, his bare self and a soul that lightly flickered in a space of black. 

His hand invaded inward towards it, pulled in the remaining space by its invisible gravitational force. Warmth. Like any other soul he’d touched of course, but still special in his own regard. There was greater attachment here. It radiated in such a familiar way, had its own fight to it. It was far more intimate than he had interacted with souls before. He wouldn’t simply snatch and crush this one to feed.

Gabriel’s second hand crept up behind the soul, caressing it into the curve of his first hand before cradling it. Slowly he retreated backward with it, the darkness that blocked off the scenery around slowly coming back into focus. He was instantly aware again of their environment and where he was and the machine that sat in front of him. It started up at him, as did his reflection in it’s lens, but it was lifeless still the same. 

In his hands still remained a soul. Gabriel swallowed heavy gazing down at its color through his fingers. There would be a day, as there would have been in their past, he would gloat about this. Jack would sit there and he would suffer through the gloats, but it would be had. Gabriel looked over to the omnic body, still frozen in place where it always had been. 

It was the source of so much pain and heartache and death, but he reminded himself it was just a shell. From here on out it was no longer a prison for Jack. He wasn’t condemning him. This would better his life. Gabriel moved in front of it. His hands, still gently around a buzzing soul, brushed up against the outer fake layer of skin.  This had to work. That’s all he could say. Otherwise he wasn’t sure exactly where they would be. Transferring it back to the smaller droid? Would the rejection lose his control and he would mistakenly feast? 

Gabriel pressed it inside of the chest cavity, unsure at first. He wasn’t exactly positive on what was supposed to happen once inside. He doubted something would reach out and grab onto the soul, but at the same time it would have helped. He stalled just a moment before trying something he sincerely hoped would be successful. 

Gabriel let it go. The soul that felt so natural and warm in his hands. The soul he had felt so possessive over. His hands retreated out of the omnic, one of them taking to its shoulder to set it up straighter and clear his view better. The soul remained in place, lowering only slightly and shifting up against something inside. The chamber perhaps? 

Jack’s soul didn’t linger too long. It’s contact with the bottom of the chamber sparked a reaction almost instantly. Gabriel wasn’t sure at first what he was seeing. The light from the soul began to travel in interesting patterns and shapes down the torso of the omnic. Only able to view the soul and not the inside of the machine itself, Gabriel could only assume he was making contact with its circuits and riding on through. If that was what was supposed to happen it was all fair game. If not, he may have killed the most important person to him. He gripped heavily on the shoulder. 

“Could you not have waited a few more minutes?!” Sombra’s voice pierced at his ear from the side.

Sombra slammed down tools and extra equipment she had gathered in her arms down on the table behind the omnic. Quickly she jumped away from it and forced her way over next to Reaper, trying to inch in closer to look at the omnic and what he had done. In her hand she grasped the red visor she had been working on. The way she flailed about it seemed she was ready to chuck it, her face red and annoyed.

“Is he inside? How long has he been in there?” 

Gabriel didn’t stop watching Jack’s soul travel in struck fascination. Almost the whole outline of the omnic had been traveled and outlined by the light focusing at Jack’s soul. Sombra had her hand out, clicking away at keypads summoned by her fingers and her cybernetic capabilities, scanning all that she could to get the answer’s Gabriel obviously wasn’t providing. 

Both of them seemingly had ways to track Jack in their own ways. They both realized this when, in each of their forms of monitoring, everything stopped. 

Gabriel tensed, the light of Jack’s soul vanishing as quickly as it had started to spread through the omnic. The light it had provided throughout the body left just as fast. Had it gone out? Surely not. It had been flickering so passionately just moments ago, he had felt it. 

To the side, Sombra began cursing out loud in Spanish, shoving her way from Gabriel. Her readings coming back empty. 

Gabriel grasped at straws. What could he do about this? Had Jack been fried by the inside of the machine? No. Impossible. Gabriel knew deep in his gut that couldn’t be possible. Still he shook at the omnic, roughly grabbed at its face. A soul was a figurative thing, it wasn’t physical. It couldn’t have been fried like that souls were not affected by outside elements exactly. Unless of course that outside element was Reaper. They died without their host. Was it his mistake to place it off on its own where it could not become the host?

“Jack.” His growl was panicked and distorted. “Jackie?”

No matter where in the area his eyes glared over and searched, there was no bubbling light of a soul. 

“Congratulations,” Sombra’s voice cracked as she spoke. Her expression was still mad, but it was clear how upset she had grown even in a few minutes time. “You just had to be in control of everything and push him into some other kind of body. You couldn’t have just waited. Are you sure you’re actually against Talon deep down, Gabe?” She jabbed the visor in her hand in his direction. “Because it’s the funniest thing. You act just like them.”

Sombra focused down on the visor in her hand, turning it over to look down at it. “It wasn’t ready or he wasn’t ready. He probably wasn’t strong enough for this.” 

Gabriel’s nanites moved as one, shifting his whole body in her direction. He reached out, gripping at her wrists strong enough to hurt. He glowered down on her, his massive shroud of self cowering in on her. “He was strong enough for this. He is strong enough!”

Sombra squirmed under his grasp, struggling to get out of his grasp as he towered over her. 

“Get off of me. Gabe let go!” She snapped, forcibly trying to get him to release. Her eyes widened, the weight of the situation drawing in on her as well as the swarm that seemed intent to zero in. “Enough!”

Sombra whimpered, her knees buckling as she struggled with her wrists that were beginning to burn. Her eyes shifted helplessly, looking over in the direction of the omnic. 

Gabriel did not release her. He couldn’t. It was like every cell in his body was traveling a million miles a second and on fire. It wasn’t the usual hunger he knew quite well, it was an insatiable need to consume. Anything at all. Comfort eating to an extreme. He was so angry and disappointed and Sombra… she was here. Why hadn’t the chamber she created worked?

The whole time she had been pleading with him still and Gabriel couldn’t get a hold of his surroundings let alone hear her words. He wanted to pull back, to retreat, to mourn, but his anger soared. 

“He’s alive! Gabe!” Sombra’s eyes held tears. He didn’t hear the words, but he could read them off her lips. 

Gabriel released her immediately and she crumbled down to the floor. He remained there a moment still, staring down at his hands where he had held her, before realizing what had just happened. Alive? His attention directed quickly over to the omnic on the table.

It’s head had tilted backwards and in it’s chest a small light flickered to life. Gabriel’s heart dropped and he froze in place. He instantly felt ashamed, how quickly his faith and control had surged from him. He looked to Sombra, scrambling to pull herself quickly up and off the floor with the visor in hand.

Despite how quickly she almost had been destroyed, a smile spread on her face as she rushed to Jack. The purple currents that traveled through her fingers were pulsing. Had they been what notified her of Jack’s reanimation? 

“Oh thank god,” She gasped out, squishing at the omnics face. “You just saved my life, big guy. Are you in there? Can you hear me? Do you have control?” 

In the air she quickly typed away, checking a multitude of things. Gabriel continued to stare from where he stood. He didn’t trust himself to do anything more. 

A low groan rolled out from the omnics vocal chords. Sombra nearly squealed in her excitement. “Here, let me get you some light.”

She reached up, carefully placing the visor over his eyes and clicking it into place at his temple. Then she stood back, excitedly watching and wiping at the tears that still stained at her face. 

Jack’s body slowly buckled and relaxed, more low groans following. She had mentioned he would feel some sort of pain. Gabriel knew pain, but could only imagine what Jack’s particular brand would have been like in that moment. Finding control in a whole new body. A whole new system.

The visor was thick and red and masked the eyes behind it. It was still a prototype, only covering his eyes for now and not yet the mouth as Sombra had planned. It made it hard to pinpoint exactly where Jack was looking when his head seemingly came to life and he looked around taking what he could in. 

At least until he looked down and at himself. The first thing Jack did was lift up his right hand. It was a gradual, unsure motion at first. He stared at his palm, then the back of it and clenched his fist. Then, in true old man fashion, he brought it right up to the visor to inspect and read. 

A nervous laugh left his lips. His mouth didn’t reflect it, but it sounded happy. He lifted his other hand then, moving it and inspecting it in the same way. He interlocked his fingers and stretched them and laughed, wholeheartedly this time. He had hands and fingers again and could move them. A feat he hadn’t been able to do himself in over a decade.

Despite Sombra trying to keep him sitting at the table, Jack disobeyed and immediately shifted his weight forward to hop off the table onto his feet. There was nothing holding him back now. No reason to hesitate. He didn’t need to breathe, by any means, but still he exhaled deeply. The whole experience had to be overwhelming.

Gabriel was speechless just to watch. He wanted to sweep forward and to embrace Jack then and there and express his happiness for him, but it was overwhelming on his side as well. It was one thing to see the body of Jack in its chamber at the old facility or on the kitchen table. It was different to see it up and active and alive. Especially when it’s stopped looking at specific points and rested instead straight in his direction.

Standing right in front of Jack. It had been so long. 

“Welcome back, Jackie.” His voice distorted, deeper, thankfully hiding how sheepishly it would have sounded otherwise. 

Jack took a hesitant step toward him. He took another and stumbled, but caught himself. Soon he was right in front of him and Gabriel no longer had the strength to do anything anymore. He wanted to melt right then and there, but his body was alive and heightened. He forced himself to stay impeccably still. 

Jack lifted his hand and reached up towards Gabriel’s face. His fingers stumbled across the surface of his mask. The mask Jack has had to familiarize himself with for months now. Gabriel knew what to expect next and he braced for it.

Jack snatched off his mask so quickly, throwing it off to the side. His hand remained in Gabriel’s personal space for a moment. He wondered if the visor had to adjust. It was a lot more discreet than the lens, that was for sure. His fingers, so alive, pressed into Gabriel’s face. 

Gabriel swallowed thickly. At least in the moment his face was more presentable than usual. Grotesque, undoubtedly, but definitely could have been worse in that moment. His nanites were restless and thus his image suffered for it. Really though was there a harm in more facial features? What ever happened to ‘the more the merrier’? 

Jack’s hand lowered back down and for a few moments more they stood parallel to one another. His fingers traced down Gabriel’s neck and to his shoulder. In one quick, but swift movement, Jack lunged himself forward, wrapping both his arms around Gabriel in an iron - literally - tight grasp. He dug the visor into his shoulder. Somehow, even in the body of an omnic, it's as if he was trembling against Gabriel.

Gabriel closed his eyes tightly, all of them, and wrapped his arms around Jack, answering with a grip almost as tight as Jack’s. He embraced him so tightly, as if he would sink through his fingers again if he didn’t. Neither of them ever thought this would be a possibility between them again. How, how in the world had Gabriel ever hated this man? He was a fool to be tricked like that and he would never allow that to happen again. His eyes would always be on Jack, he would not lose him or be deceived. They would do this together. Talon would be at their mercy and then the world would be theirs to do with what they liked. 

“Gabriel,” Jack whispered in his ear and it was chilling. So life like, and without the filtered effects of a speaker muffling it. Just pure Jack.

_ Jackie _ . Gabriel wanted to gasp out, but he couldn’t. The moment he gave into his feelings was the moment he burst into a cloud of smoke, struggling to be whole and around Jack once more. He wasn’t nearly as free as Jack, not yet, but surely there would be hope for him one day as well. Gabriel tightened his grip. Jack picked up on the message and continued.

“I’m here.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you again for reading! All of the reaper76 love to you today!  
> A big thank you to those who organized and brought this big bang together!


End file.
